Talk Nerdy to Me
by MelissaMargaret
Summary: When brilliant but shy Carlisle Cullen notices his beautiful, unattainable classmate is failing he'll do anything to help her get back on track. What secrets will he learn about this mystery girl, and what will it mean for their future?
1. Chapter 1

I don't own _Twilight, _but I want a nerdlisle of my own.

This will be a short fic with frequent updates. It's just some fluffy fun to take the edge off of angst fest, I mean AtR.

Mackenzie L. is the beta and is so wonderful to me. Kr2009 and texasunshine pre-read and send me such lovely comments and ideas. Kelley is 100% responsible for the title. That's all on her.

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><p>First day of the semester. Sophomore year of college.<p>

I'm scrawling notes in the corner of my Civil Engineering as a Career syllabus the first time I see her.

I don't know why I look up, but I do. She's sitting in the middle of the front row directly in front of me.

She's _perfect._

Her hair is brown but it's not. I can't explain it, but I've never seen anything more beautiful. She turns her head slightly to the left, and all I see is creamy skin and one bright green eye.

It's like the color of the stone in my Nana's wedding ring. The ring my mother insists I'll give to some lucky girl one day.

Her eyes are always so full of hope when she talks about it, but who am I kidding? I'm twenty years old and have never even been kissed.

Girls like this one don't want an awkward, shy kid with glasses.

…

Later, when we're sitting on the grass eating lunch, my brother Edward tells me her name is Esme.

_Esme_. It means beloved. No name could be more suited to my beautiful mystery girl.

I pretend I don't know what he's talking about. He tells me I'm full of shit.

"She has a boyfriend."

My heart drops into my stomach. I feel sick. I don't know why. It's not like I would ever have a chance with someone so perfect.

"How do you know?"

He shrugs. "I've seen them around campus together. He's very… hands on. He's the guy who was sitting next to her."

Black hair, hard eyes, no warmth, cocky attitude. I shake my head, trying to get rid of the image of him being with mystery girl. He's not right for her. She's light and he's dark. Everything about him is just… wrong.

"You like her, don't you?"

I nod my head slowly. I can't deny that Edward is right. I don't know anything about her, but I know I hate the thought of not being able to get to know her.

"Well," he says, getting up to throw his trash away, "you've got some stiff competition, bro."

He's right. It's _no _competition actually. She would never look twice at someone like me.

…

I go to my parents' house for dinner that night. Edward is oddly quiet on the ride over.

I can't stop thinking about mystery girl_. Esme._

She's studying to be an engineer. Just like me. Her major only adds to her appeal. She seems like she was one of the popular girls in high school. The popular girls don't major in engineering.

I have to unravel the mystery of mystery girl.

I'm distracted all through dinner. Edward smirks at me over his fork the entire night. He knows I can't get my mind off her.

I wonder why he hasn't tried to let me down easy yet. Edward was always part of the "in crowd" in high school. He played football, dated cheerleaders, went to parties every weekend, and still managed to make straight A's. He would bring girls to the house all the time, and I would disappear to my bedroom so I didn't have to see what I knew I couldn't have.

Edward was cool. He's always been part of the same world mystery girl had to come from. He knew she would never be interested in me.

I was the quiet kid in high school. The nerdy guy with glasses who hung out with the band geeks and spent lunch in the library doing homework. No one gave me a second glance the whole four years. Half the kids we graduated with probably didn't even know my name. They probably never even knew I existed till graduation day when I had to give a speech.

…

The next day I'm in the library on campus when I see them.

I don't like the way he's gripping her arm. Like he owns her. Like he's afraid to let his status symbol go.

That's all she is to him, I decide. She's his most prized possession. Who wouldn't love to have such an amazing woman on his arm? That's obviously all he cares about.

I wonder if he even really knows her.

Not what's on the surface, but what's underneath. I wonder if he knows her heart.

I want to know her heart. I want it more than anything.

…

He doesn't come to class with her that day.

I briefly wonder where he is until she turns to look directly at me. My heart skips a beat, and I think I'm about to pass out. Then she opens her mouth, and I'm sure I'm about to pass out.

She asks me for a pencil.

Eight simple words. _Do you have a pencil I can borrow?_

Her voice is like an angel's. I'm not sure I believe angels exist, and I've certainly never heard one speak, but if there is such a thing as an angel, mystery girl surely must be one.

I barely pay attention to our first lecture that day. I can't take my eyes off her.

She's always wearing thin, professional looking skirts and nice tops to class. And heels. Really high ones. They look like they would hurt a lot, but she never seems uncomfortable in them.

I wear scuffed converse and jeans. I could never compare to her. She is perfection, and I am invisible.

My blond hair is always messy, and my eyes are hidden behind my glasses. I'm afraid to try contacts. I would have to touch my eyes. What if I poked one out?

Her light brown hair is curled in a way that is more reminiscent of the black and white films of the forties. She reminds me of Rita Hayworth. I wonder if when I'm sent to prison for stalking her I can have a poster in my cell like in _Shawshank_.

Her eyes are the greenest I've ever seen and so warm. I never want to look away from them, but that would be weird if I stared at her all day.

She's such an enigma. She's warm but aloof. She might be friendly if I spoke to her, but I would never know what to say.

I want to hear her voice again, though.

_Do you have a pencil I can borrow?_

I think about those words and her soft melodic voice the rest of the day.

…

Day in and day out for the next two weeks.

Go to class, daydream about mystery girl, go home, study, go to sleep, rinse and repeat.

Every day I sit behind them; my dislike for her boyfriend grows.

I hate the way he touches her. I hate the way he looks at her. I hate the way he smirks and slips his arm too low around her waist. She's not an object. She's a person. He doesn't understand.

I hate everything about him. She deserves better. She deserves to be treated like the royalty she should be.

The more he treats her like his property, the more the light leaves her eyes.

She's sad. I can tell.

I want her to be happy. She's beautiful when she's happy.

…

I sneak in a look at her first test of the semester when we get them back.

She failed.

Why did she fail?

She participates in class discussion like she's spent her life in construction. I watch her work in class and in the library. She knows the information and she knows it well.

Why did she fail?

Her boyfriend glares at her as she stares at the test. She looks like she's in shock. I want to help her. I don't even know what's wrong or what to do, but the need to fix whatever made her fail is overwhelming.

What if I offered to tutor her? That could work, I think. I could find out what makes her so good at class work but fail tests.

I could help her study.

We could work on homework together.

Most importantly, I could learn more about mystery girl and why she is such a mystery.


	2. Chapter 2

SM owns these characters. Not me. So sad.

I told a lot of you guys in the review replies that this would be up tomorrow, but I'm really hoping to make this a daily update fic. Since AtR is on track toward updating Friday as normal, I figured why not tonight?

Mackenzie L. makes these words pretty, and kr2009 and texasunshine swoon in all the right places.

Thank you so much for all the reviews, favorites, and alerts. I never imagined I could write fluff, so the validation means so much to me!

The highest of fives to those of you who called out the _Shawshank_ reference. There will probably be many, many more.

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><p>It's amazing the things you can learn about a person through simple observation.<p>

Mystery girl's favorite candy is Skittles. She brings a bag to class with her every day. Her favorite color is pink, as in the color of her backpack and notebook. And her nails. They're bright pink and acrylic. The kind my mother always has that hurt when she accidently scratches you.

I silently wonder if she's ever maliciously scratched her boyfriend with them. That thought makes me smile.

I imagine what it would feel like to have those nails scrape down my back while she squirms beneath me. Too bad I'll never know.

It's a nice image, though. It does the trick, and before I know it I'm leaning back against the shower wall trying to catch my breath.

I towel off quickly and get dressed, my mind still reeling from the powerful orgasm I just had. There's never been a real girl in my head before. When we were teenagers Edward and I would steal our dad's copies of _Playboy_, but they never did anything for me. I wanted something real.

Mystery girl was real.

She was tangible.

I could touch her. Not literally because that was called sexual assault, but I could definitely fantasize about her in the shower. And in class. And in the grocery store. Basically everywhere.

I walk from the bathroom to my bedroom and stare at the clothes sitting in a pile on my floor. There are technically two piles. One of clean clothes and one of things I'm too lazy to put in the laundry basket. It's a complicated system.

I pull on my standard clothing choice of jeans, t-shirt, and converse, and walk to the kitchen where Edward is frying bacon on the stove.

"Breakfast, bro?" he asks, offering me a plate.

Edward's friends would shit themselves if they knew he could cook.

He's incredible in the kitchen. Our mother has always told him he should be in culinary school instead of engineering school. He never says it out loud but I think he's afraid culinary school would make him hate cooking. It happens. Our dad wanted to be a lawyer until he actually became one. Now he hates what he does.

I sit at the tiny table and eat my bacon and eggs. I probably wouldn't survive if Edward didn't cook for me. I can make ramen but who really wants that for breakfast?

Our parents both wanted us to continue living at home when we went to college, but I couldn't stand that thought anymore than Edward could.

Even though they help us out some with the rent, neither of us liked the thought of being their charity cases. We both got small jobs to pay our other bills. Edward works in a sporting goods store, and I found a part-time job in a bookstore on campus.

He joins me at the table with his own plate.

"So, what's your plan for talking to mystery girl?"

I shrug. I honestly haven't thought of anything, but I know I need a plan. I've never talked to a girl on purpose before. I don't know how to do this. I feel sick just thinking about what to say.

"This is what you do," Edward says, suddenly becoming serious. He takes a long breath and pauses like he's going to make some massive, important speech. "Be yourself."

I blink several times. "That's it?"

"Yes, sir."

"Well, thank you for that, Edward, but who I am is nobody."

He looks annoyed. I can't say I blame him. I'm a little annoyed with him myself.

"Seriously, how is it that you can talk my ear off like any normal person, but you can't say two words to this girl?"

Technically I've said three words to her. _Here you go_, when she asked for a pencil. I'm not sure Edward would think that counts.

I'm not you," I say. "I can't just look at a girl and make her instantly want me."

"You know why that is, right? You have no confidence, bro. And I don't understand why. You're smart, your funny, you could be attractive." I roll my eyes. "Okay, that came out wrong, but you know what I mean. There are girls out there who love the nerdy type. You just have to be willing to get shot down a few times before you find one."

"We're talking about getting mystery girl to let me tutor her. I'm not trying to get married."

"Maybe not, but you like this girl a lot. The same rules apply. If she turns your offer down you're going to be crushed. The trick is to make her want to accept."

"And how do I do that?"

"Well you can start by not calling her 'mystery girl' to her face."

I throw a strip of bacon at his head. It misses. Damn.

"Really, dude, I can't give you an instruction manual. There isn't one. Just be you, and be sure of what you want. Chicks dig a guy who knows what he wants. You want to tutor this girl. Make sure she knows that."

Easier said than done, bro. Easier said than done.

…

I watch her sit down next to douchebag and rub his shoulder lightly. Stupid boney shoulder. I bet rubbing it hurts her hand.

I crumple the paper I'm holding when she kisses him. Then I realize it's my homework that's due today, and I want to scream.

As much as I hate it, I can't stop watching. Her mouth is so stunning. Her lips are full and red, and I'm pretty sure that's natural and not caused by makeup. They look like they would taste like strawberries.

Their kiss lingers. It's like they don't notice anyone else in the room.

I want her to kiss me like that.

He holds the side of her face in his hand, and she's kissing him like she's desperate to feel something for him but can't.

Maybe that's just me wishing that deep down she hates him. I must be delusional. She's kissing him in a classroom full of people. Do people do that with someone they don't like? I doubt it.

They break apart when the professor walks in and class begins. I try so hard to pay attention but I can't think about anything but what it would feel like to have her lips on mine. By the end of class I'm ready to get away from there.

In my head my plan of asking if she wanted to study with me sounded so great. In reality I was sure I would never be able to work up the nerve.

I sit on a bench outside the main engineering building. There's half an hour till I need to be at my next class and I need to clear my head for a minute.

I almost miss it when mystery girl rushes past me. It's impossible to miss the fact she's upset or that her boyfriend is nowhere to be seen.

I wonder what happened.

I'm tempted to follow her, but then I remember that stalking is illegal. And rude. Mostly illegal.

I do it anyway.

She stops near the English building where there's a kind of courtyard with several tables and benches. She throws her bag down on one of the tables and sits down. I try to make a quiet exit, but she notices me.

"Hey wait," she says just as I turn to leave. "You're in my CE class right? You sit behind me?"

I can hardly believe she's speaking to me. My brain is so busy trying to think of something to say that I can't think of anything to say. So I nod. Smooth, Cullen.

She grins. "I still have your pencil."

"It's okay," I say. "You can keep it."

_You can keep it._ What kind of pickup line is that? I get the feeling my brother would be very disappointed in me right now.

I was failing at everything he told me to do.

She looks around for a few moments and bites her lip. "Do you want to sit down?" she asks.

Of course I wanted to sit down. What happens then, though? Would she initiate conversation? Was I supposed to do that? Why is all of this so complicated?

She watches me expectantly and I realize I have yet to actually sit. I've been so busy panicking about what to say once I am sitting. I probably look like an idiot to her.

She smiles encouragingly, and I slide into the seat across from her.

"I'm Esme," she says. She extends her hand across the table, and I know I'm supposed to shake it, but I stare for a moment. Her fingers are long and perfect. I can't stop imagining them wrapped around me.

I finally clear my throat and take her hand. It's warm, just like I knew it would be. I'm sure mine is sweating and I hope she doesn't notice.

"I'm Carlisle," I tell her. That was easier than I thought it would be. So far so good.

"It's nice to officially meet you."

All I can do is nod like some kid who's never spoken to a girl before. Maybe because I haven't.

"How did you do on our test?" she asks.

Wow. She was making this easy for me and she didn't even realize it. "Pretty good," I reply.

Am I supposed to ask her how she did? I don't want to ask. I know how she did and it wasn't good. I don't want to embarrass her.

Her faces falls and I get the feeling I don't need to say anything.

"I didn't do so great." Her voice is soft as she speaks. There's a brief moment where I remember being in the shower this morning, and I wish I could have imagined her voice like that. Then I remember that she lowered her voice because she's ashamed of her grade. Now I want to slap myself.

"I'm sorry," I say. I don't know what I'm supposed to say at all. I'm so far out of my league I'm pitching from the berm. And now I'm making baseball metaphors. Edward would be proud.

She sighs. It's such a sad sound. It's not right at all. Such a beautiful mouth shouldn't make sad sounds.

She shakes her head. "It's not a big deal. I'll do better next time."

I suddenly feel very brave, and I really hope I'm not about to say anything stupid. "Can I ask you something?"

She nods and tilts her head like she's curious. "Of course."

"I always notice in class that you talk about engineering like it's second nature to you. I guess that didn't come across on the test?"

Her eyes widen. Did I screw up already?

"Wow! Do I really sound like that?"

I smile. She really has no idea how smart she is. "You sound like you're already an engineer," I say.

She blushes. Her cheeks flush red and she ducks her head. She seems so shy. Not at all like the confident girl I see in class every day.

"I'm a bookkeeper in an engineering firm," she explains. "I guess I just say the things I pick up around the office."

Well that explains the nice clothes.

"I don't know why I failed the test so badly," she continues. "I guess…" She shakes her head. "Nevermind. It's not a big deal."

I lean forward. I'm concerned now. She needs to pass her classes. She's too smart not to succeed at this. "If there's something that's negatively affecting your schoolwork it probably is a big deal."

"You're right. I need to just apply myself better. I've been letting myself get distracted by other things lately."

I wonder if this has anything to do with her loser boyfriend. Who isn't a loser at all in fact. I'm the loser. But I'm the one who she's confiding in right now. Not him. That realization makes me sit up a little straighter and smile.

"What if we study together?"

Where in the hell did that come from? I know my whole goal in talking to her today was to convince her to study with me, but I never thought I'd actually be able to say the words.

But now I have, and I really want to hold my breath waiting for her response, but that might not end well.

"You mean like meet up here at the library and do our homework and study?"

"Sure," I say. "If you think it would help you."

She nods. "I do. I think it would help a lot. It would give me some focus if I have a study buddy."

"Great." I think I'm in shock. I don't think it's hit me yet that she agreed. I'm trying to play it cool like Edward suggested but it isn't easy.

"Let me see your phone," she says.

I blink. _My phone? _And then I realize she wants to give me her number. I smile as I hand it to her. There's never been a girl's number in it before. Besides my mom. That hardly counts.

…

At approximately 8:53pm my phone rings. Well, the alert notification goes off. Same thing.

_Can you meet at nine Saturday at the library?_

_At night? _I'm messing with her. I know she means morning.

_You should know by now they close before then. _I have to tilt the phone to the side, and stare at it for a moment before I realize the equal sign and close parentheses that follow her message are actually a smiley face.

_I'll be there._

_K. See you then. _Another smiley face. I kind of like them. Okay, I like them a lot. More to the point I like that she texted me.

And now I would see her again in just two days. It would be just us. Along with anyone else who decided to use the library so early on a weekend. I wouldn't think about those people.

All that matters is I have a study date with mystery girl.


	3. Chapter 3

No matter how much I wish it was _Twilight_ is not mine. If it was I would be out spending money left and right.

Mackenzie edits this story and Kelley and Lauren pre-read so quickly for me. They are all wonderful.

I am loving the amazing response to this story so far. I never imagined so many people would jump on the Nerdlisle bandwagon with me. Thank you all!

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><p>"A <em>Star Wars <em>shirt?" My brother's face is scrunched up as he stares at me. His horror is obvious.

"What's wrong with my shirt?"

"Everything, bro," he says while walking to my closet. "You're practically going on a date with this girl. You absolutely cannot show up wearing a five year old _Star Wars_ t-shirt. It violates every section of the man code?"

I'm momentarily distracted. "What is a man code?"

He sighs while pulling shirts out of my closet. "Nevermind, dude. The point is you are not wearing that on a date."

"It isn't a date," I tell him.

"Yes it is. You're taking this girl to the library. That's the nerd version of a date."

I roll my eyes at his insanity. I'm the one who is going to spend an undetermined amount of time with mystery girl in exactly one hour, and he's the one who's panicking. I never thought I would be the voice of reason in a situation like this. Wait… I never thought I would be in a situation like this _period_.

That's when it hits me. I'm going to be alone with mystery girl. The room starts to spin, and I feel like I might pass out. She brings the propensity for fainting out in me, apparently.

Edward stops what he's doing and turns to me. "Are you okay, bro? You're not about to throw up, are you?"

I might. It's very possible. I can't breathe.

"Dude, settle down. There's nothing to worry about. Look at it this way, she already said yes. You breezed through the hardest part already."

The hardest part? What was he talking about, the hardest part? I had to go spend a Saturday morning with the girl of my dreams. What if I screwed up bad this time and said the wrong thing? What if she decided after today she didn't want anything to do with me?

"You're going to wear this one," Edward says holding up a black button down.

Is he joking? I only wear that shirt to important things where I'm required to be dressed up.

"And these jeans," he continues. This time he pulls up a pair of dark wash jeans that are artistically faded in some places. He got them for me for my birthday. I think I've only worn them a handful of times. I don't have expensive taste like my brother does, and I definitely don't want to imagine what he paid for them.

And then I ask the obvious question.

"Why are you trying to make me look like you?"

"I'm not, bro. I swear. Look, if there's one thing I know it's chicks, and they dig this look, dude. Just trust me. These clothes will make you feel more confident, too."

I want to point out the many holes in his logic, but I quietly do what he says instead. With Edward it's usually best to just shut the hell up and go along with him.

…

There are only a few cars in the parking lot when I get to the library. Good. Less people to witness me throwing up from nerves. On the other hand more people would be better if this ended up being the day I actually passed out.

I just can't win at this game.

I can't stop tugging at my collar either. I hate my brother for making me dress like this. It may be fine for him, but I'm not comfortable, and these clothes just aren't me. I've never wanted to stand out. I like being part of the background.

I have to admit Edward might be right about mystery girl noticing me more in these clothes, but she's already noticed me. She agreed to meet me here today. And I was wearing a t-shirt with a Dalek on it when she said yes. A _Star Wars_ shirt is a step down on the nerdy scale from that. I'm pretty sure she won't care what I'm writing.

Then again, maybe I'm full of shit like my brother is always saying. Mystery girl's boyfriend is always dressed like something out of a _GAP_ ad.

And guys like him think I'm the pansy. Ha.

I walk in and see her sitting in one of the chairs in front of the elevator. It's like one of those moments in a movie where the guy walks in and sees the girl, and her hair is blowing behind her even though they're indoors and everything is in slow motion.

Yeah, it's like that.

At least in my head it is.

And then comes the epic climax of my awful movie. I'm so busy staring at her that I trip over the thing by the door that makes sure you aren't stealing from the library. Why you would do that I do not know, but whatever floats your banana boat.

I'm sure I'm about to fall flat on my face, but I manage to just stumble and attempt to play it off. I'm sure the librarian laughed.

But mystery girl doesn't laugh at me, even when I push my askew glasses up the bridge of my nose in true nerd fashion. Instead she smiles as she walks toward me. She doesn't have a skirt and heels on today. She's wearing jeans, like me. Unlike mine, these jeans cling to her perfect legs like Saran Wrap.

My shower fantasies will be much more vivid from now on.

Her shirt is one I've seen on her before. A purple one that is open all the way down her chest. It makes me wonder if she's wearing some kind of miracle bra or if her breasts push together like that naturally. I hope for the latter but assume the former.

I'm not as delusional as I was the other day.

She's wearing flip-flops today, and for the first time I realize she's much shorter than I am. The six-year-old in me wants to feel less intimidated by her because I'm big and she's small.

That thinking doesn't work.

At all.

Mystery girl scares the crap out of me.

…

We're on the top floor. There's no one else up here. Not even the rotation librarian.

I'm painfully aware of how alone we are. I can't stop fidgeting. I'm peeling the paint off the underside of the table, and praying it really is paint and not ten-year-old gum that has solidified under there.

She doesn't seem to notice. Either that or she's ignoring me. Either one is better than being annoyed by my nervous fidgeting.

"What other classes are you taking?" she asks. She's so good at this conversation stuff. I wonder if people come by that ability genetically, because if they do I must be missing a DNA strand.

"Umm… I have a couple of core classes. British Lit and Trig. And then I'm taking Surveying and the lab."

"I'm in that, too," she says. "I love that class. I've always been fascinated by watching the guys at my office set up the survey equipment. Now I'm learning how to do it, too."

I'm curious about her work and how she decided she wanted to be an engineer, but I don't think I should ask. We don't really know each other. Maybe I should ask my brother to make me a chart or something so I can know when it is an appropriate time to ask a girl different things about herself.

"So, what should we work on?" she asks. "The assignment that's due next week?"

I nod. "That sounds good. Unless you want to go over what you got wrong on the test."

"Actually that sounds like a better plan." She smiles at me, and I feel like I might be blushing. I hope not. I really don't need her seeing any more evidence of how awkward I am.

She begins to pull a book out of her bag when her phone lights up. It's on silent, but it's impossible to miss the fact someone is calling her. She picks it up and rolls her eyes when she looks at the screen. She motions to me that she'll be right back, and she answers the phone in a whisper. I watch her walk away from the table and into the aisles of books.

My heart drops into my stomach. What if it's her boyfriend? Do people usually roll their eyes when their special someone calls them? I never would. But then again, I would do more than roll my eyes if I ever had to talk to her boyfriend.

She comes back exactly two minutes and forty-two seconds later. I wasn't counting. Not at all. Okay, I was.

She's agitated and obviously frustrated. I want to hug her. Would that be appropriate? I don't know, but whatever has her upset I want to make it go away. She needs to be happy.

She's biting her lip like I've heard girls do when they're nervous. Why would she be nervous? I'm nervous, but I've never done anything like this before. I have no experience with the opposite sex. She does, though. She shouldn't be nervous.

"I, umm… I have to go. I'm really sorry, Carlisle. It's just my boyfriend. He needs my help with something. I'm sorry."

I'm momentarily distracted by the sound of her angelic voice saying my name. I want to drown in the way each syllable rolls off her perfect tongue.

Then I realize she's leaving, and I really think I might cry. I nod sadly and look down while she packs her stuff.

She gets up, and I'm sure she's about to just walk away. Instead I feel the warmth of her hand on my shoulder. She squeezes it lightly, and I look up to see her smiling down at me.

"I'm really sorry," she says again. And then she's gone. Just like that.

I don't know how long I sit there staring at the table.

Why did she keep apologizing for leaving?

Was it me?

Was I the real reason she left, and not because douchebag called her away?

I sigh and get up to leave. So much for my study date with mystery girl.

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><p>Have some faith in me, please? All fluff needs just a little bit of hurt.<p> 


	4. Chapter 4

I wish I owned _Twilight_. Unfortunately my life is not nearly that awesome.

Mackenzie L edited this in about five minutes. She's more awesome than owning _Twilight _would be. Kr2009 and texasunshine pre-read and pitch me the most incredible ideas in the middle of the night.

I'm sorry I didn't get to review replies on the last chapter, but thank you so much for trusting me. This chapter makes up for the last one, I think.

This will be the last one for the week. I'll be back Monday for another week of updates and an AtR update!

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><p>She's here. In my apartment. I cannot believe this is happening. I'm surprised I can think straight while I stare at her. Better yet I'm surprised I'm not drooling all over the place.<p>

She's wearing these tiny black shorts. I can see every inch of her perfect legs. They go on for absolute miles. I swear they do. She's small, but she has the longest legs. They're so smooth and pale, and I think I'm in love with them. I want them wrapped around my waist. Right now.

Her red tank top leaves nothing at all to the imagination. And I have a good imagination. I've envisioned this moment countless times since the first time I saw her.

The reality is so much better.

She straightened her hair. It makes it look longer. She has it in a ponytail, and I love the slender shape of her neck and shoulders.

I imagine my mouth on her skin, kissing across her collarbone and up her neck. I want to move toward her and make that happen, but I can't get my feet to work. The traitorous bastards are stuck to the carpet like they don't want my wildest dream to come true.

She smiles and walks toward me. "Lie down," she says.

I comply immediately.

She climbs onto the bed next to me and places her arm over my chest, propping her head up on her hand.

"I'm sorry about this morning." Her voice is soft, apologetic. It reminds me of how she sounded when she left. Like she didn't really want to go. Was it possible that she wanted to stay with me, but couldn't because of her boyfriend?

I groan. I don't need to be thinking about him right now. Not when she's here with me. In my bed.

Suddenly feeling very brave I reach out and touch her. I only run my finger down the side of her face, but she's every bit as soft and warm as I had imagined.

"Is that why you came here?" I ask. "To apologize?"

She nods. "I hate the way we left things this morning. I know I hurt you, and I can't stand that. I should never have left. Do you believe me when I say I didn't want to go?"

"I believe you. But how did you even know where I live?"

Her smile is devious, and for the first time it really, truly hits me that she's here in my bed with me. This is every nerd's wet dream and I'm living it. Is it possible for constant friction to rip denim seams? Because if it is I think I'm about to burst through my jeans.

"Your brother was very helpful," she replies.

Of course. I need to thank Edward when this is over. Which I hope is never so he'll be waiting a while.

"And did you only come to apologize?"

Wow. I'm really brave in the comfort of my bedroom, apparently. Even when a girl is practically on top of me. Good to know.

My mind goes blank when she leans forward, and I feel her lips against my ear.

"How did you guess?" she whispers. "I'm here for so much more. I want to make it up to you."

She moves over me so that she's straddling my hips. Her lips meet my neck once, and they feel like the petals on the flowers my mother grows.

She sits up straight and grins down at me. I'm really straining against my jeans now. They need to come off. They have no business getting in my way like they are.

She grinds against me, and my eyes roll back. My right hand has been holding out on me. _Nothing_feels better than this.

She lifts my hand and places it on her left breast. It's soft, like the rest of her. I want to hold it forever. I think I love her breasts. No, I know I love them.

"Do you want me, Carlisle?" she asks, grinding against me again.

I nod. "I want you, Mystery Girl."

Her eyes widen at the same time I realize I did exactly what Edward warned me not to do. I called her 'mystery girl' to her face.

I squeeze my eyes shut, more embarrassed than I've ever been. Just as I begin stuttering an apology there's a loud banging on the bedroom door. My eyes fly open. Mystery girl is gone, and light is streaming through my window. I look down. I'm palming myself through my _Batman _boxers.

Cheese and crackers, it was a damn dream!

I groan and throw my head back against the pillow. The banging on the door starts again, this time accompanied by a voice.

"Get up, bro, we're gonna be late for class!"

I barely have three seconds to cover myself with the blanket before he barges in and turns the light on. I close my eyes against the bright light.

"I'm not going today," I say, rolling onto my side.

"Yes you are, bro, now get up!"

He's pulling on my arm, and I'm resisting.

"No. I don't want to go." I realize I'm acting like a child, but I don't care. I'm twenty years old. If I don't want to go to school I'm not going.

"You have to face her, Carlisle. I didn't force you to talk about it yesterday because I knew you were upset, but hiding from her isn't going to accomplish anything."

"Yes it will," I mutter.

"Fine! If you want to hide in here forever and feel sorry for yourself you go right ahead. I won't pay your half of the rent, though."

I sigh and throw the blanket off. He's right. Life goes on. Maybe things would work out. I doubt it, but I'm trying to be optimistic. People say it's a good way to live. Maybe they're right. We'll see.

…

I'm nervously tapping my pencil against the table. Edward keeps shooting me annoyed glances, and he even flicks a paper football at me once. I ignore him. He deserves to be a little irritated. It's what he gets for being right all the time.

I stop breathing when she walks in. Boyfriend isn't with her today. I wonder what he does all day. He skips class so much it'll be a miracle if he passes.

I remember to breathe again when she smiles at me as she takes her seat. It's a genuine smile. There's no apology, it's not forced, it's not just her being polite.

It's like she is actually happy to see me.

Her hair is curly today, like normal. Not at all like it was in my dream.

I'm glad no one can see me under the table because I have to adjust myself when my mind wanders to the dream I had. I was so sure it was real. I've never had such a realistic dream before.

It was like playing a virtual reality game. The porn version. Oh, I should invent that.

She's not dressed like she normally is during class. She's wearing jeans. It's the second time I've seen them on her, but the effect is no less amazing. Does she not have to work today? Is that why she's so casual?

She's wearing a tight white t-shirt too. I can see the outline of her bra through it as I stare at her back.

I should look away but I can't. I've surpassed the acceptable staring time and have now crossed into creepy stalker territory.

I glance at Edward. He's smirking at me. I raise my eyebrow, but all he does is shake his head and laugh.

Yeah, laugh it up, popular boy.

I want to say something to her, but then I don't. I wouldn't know what to begin with.

_Why did you really leave? _Yeah, I'm sure she wouldn't want to answer that.

She smiled at me, but that was all. A smile is just a smile. She didn't speak. Maybe she didn't want to speak to me.

But why?

She always seems so comfortable around me. Much more so than most people are. Most people give me a wide berth. They snicker behind their hands and think I don't notice.

Newsflash, cool kids of the world: nerds notice everything.

…

After class I head to the bookstore to work my shift. It's always quiet in the afternoons. I can usually sit and read in peace.

She comes in halfway through my shift. She's the last person I expect to see in here. When the bell chimes over the door and I look up to see mystery girl walking toward me, I nearly fall off my stool.

"Hi, Carlisle," she says with a smile.

I swallow the lump in my throat and nod in greeting. "Hi."

"You ran out of class so fast I didn't get a chance to talk to you. Your brother said you work here and that you would be here till four."

I rub the back of my neck nervously. "Uh… Yeah, this is where I work."

Why did I just say that? She knows I work here. She just said it herself.

"I wanted to apologize," she says. "For Saturday. I hate the way I just up and left so abruptly."

Oh crap, it's like my dream, but it's more of a nightmare because we're not in my bed.

"It's okay. I understand. You had to leave. Things come up."

"Still, I should have just told him no. Explained that I needed to study. I should have just ignored his call in the first place."

I want to verbally agree with her the way I agree in my head, but I think that response would be rude. I should make her feel better by saying it's no big deal.

"It's no big deal. He's your boyfriend. He comes before some random study session."

"He shouldn't," she says with a sigh. "Oh, but hey, I brought you a little something to make it up to you."

She reaches into her purse and pulls out a brownie, wrapped in plastic. It's one of the fresh, warm ones they make in the student center. My favorite. I get one every day. Edward must have told her.

"I have to run," she says. "But enjoy your brownie. I hear they're your favorite."

Before I can formulate an appropriate response, she's gone. I look down and notice a folded piece of paper attached to the string on the brownie. I open it up, and I'm greeted by the most beautiful handwriting I've ever seen.

It's like my Nana's but better. The curved letters flow across the paper, and I close my eyes and smile, imagining her writing me a message.

_Meet me in the library. Top floor. Same table. 5 o'clock._

_- Esme_

Only two more hours. One hour of work and one of waiting. Then I would meet my mystery girl for a makeup study date.


	5. Chapter 5

I don't own _Twilight._

Mackenzie L is my wonderful beta, and kr2009 and texasunshine pre-read this.

Early update today since I'll be out this evening.

Every day I'm more and more in awe of your guys and your love for Nerdlisle. Thank you all so much! There might not be an update tomorrow, but I'm going to try as hard as I can. I'm not sure I'll be near my laptop all day.

If you don't hear from me tomorrow, I'll see y'all on Wednesday!

* * *

><p>Mystery girl is already sitting at our table when I step out of the elevator. She has a book in front of her, a pen in her hand, and is leaning back in her chair with her feet up on the chair across from hers.<p>

I don't know whether to be happy or terrified that this means I have to sit beside her.

She looks up, surprised, when I slide into my chair.

"Is it five already? Wow time flew. I guess I was studying hard."

I glance at the open book in front of her. "Surveying? There's a test coming up in your class, too?"

She nods. "I'm sure we have the same professor. He probably schedules things at the same time for all his classes.

Oh, right. That makes sense. I guess being around her clouds my brain to the point where I lose all common sense.

"Did you enjoy your brownie?" she asks casually. She looks at me, and her eyes are so green and beautiful and full of hope. Even if the brownies weren't really my favorite, I would tell her they were. I would do anything to have her look at me like that.

"I did," I tell her. "Thank you."

"I'm glad you liked it. I wanted to talk to you after class to apologize, but when I turned around you were already halfway to the door. You're brother told me you had to work a shift at the bookstore. I explained to him that we had a study date Saturday, and that I had to leave early and felt awful. That's when he told me about the brownies. He said the fastest way to your heart was through those brownies."

My heart? At the moment it feels like it's about to stop beating.

"Anyway," she continues before I have time to go into cardiac arrest. "I'm glad you enjoyed it. I'm more of a peanut butter cookie girl, but I've heard those brownies are good. I'll have to try one sometime."

"I love peanut butter cookies," I say quietly. "But Edward's allergic so I don't get them very often."

"Well, next time we meet up I'll have to bake some."

"Next time?"

She looks confused. "Of course, Carlisle. You're my study buddy now."

There goes my name again, falling from her amazing lips.

"So what do you want to work on?" she continues. "I'm kind of tired of looking at this Surveying stuff, honestly."

"Well, what about CE? We could work on that?"

Yeah," she says. "Can I tell you a secret about that class?"

She wants to tell me a secret? Isn't that what girls do at slumber parties and stuff? Do girls even have slumber parties in college? I want to have a slumber party with her. My mind drifts back to my dream for a moment, and it takes me a minute to realize she's watching me expectantly.

Right. She asked me a question.

"Sure," I stutter.

She laughs softly and shakes her head. "Where does your mind go when you zone out like that?"

I get the feeling this isn't the secret she wants to share. I think I should feel offended, but I can tell she's not being malicious.

"I don't know," I mutter. "Why?"

"I guess I just see you as having a very analytical mind. I find it fascinating."

Wait just a minute now. She finds something about me fascinating?

I can't help but blush. I seem to do that a lot around her.

I suddenly remember she said something about a secret. "You wanted to tell me something?"

She looks down and shuffles in her seat like she's nervous.

"I don't know why I'm failing CE," she says quietly. "You know, I found my job in the paper one day. Right after I graduated high school. They were looking for a receptionist, so I applied on a whim, thinking they would never call me back because I had no experience. Now after only two years I'm the bookkeeper. I had no idea what I wanted to do until I got that job. It opened me up to the whole construction industry, and I fell in love."

I smile. I adore the way she talks about her love of engineering. It's something we have in common.

"It just doesn't make sense," she says. "This is the class that is designed to instill a love of engineering in its students. I already have that love, so why am I failing?"

She never looks at me while she speaks. I think she's ashamed. She shouldn't be. I don't doubt at all that she'll be an incredible engineer someday. I want to convince her, but I don't know how.

"How are you doing in Surveying?" I ask. It might be connected. I don't know how, but at least I said something. That's a start.

"I'm doing so well in that class. That's why I don't understand." She looks up all of a sudden as if she's just remembered something important. She laughs before burying her face in her hands and groaning. "I must be an idiot," she mutters.

I'm confused. What just happened? Did she have some kind of epiphany? I didn't see any ray of sunshine or hear any trumpets.

"I don't think you're an idiot."

She laughs again. "Thanks, Carlisle, but I really am about some things."

Okay, now I'm really confused. I want to know what's going on, but I don't know if just asking would be acceptable.

She taps her pen against her book for a minute before looking at me and smiling.

"Charles."

That's all she says. As if I'm supposed to suddenly have access to all her thoughts, and know exactly what is wrong. And who the hell is Charles?

Then it dawns on me, and it really is like a miniature epiphany. Except I don't get any trumpets either. What a shame.

Her boyfriend. That's who Charles is. My first thought is that he has the dumbest name. I don't care that it's a little close to my own. Except that mine is far more regal and unusual. My second thought is that I hate his dumb name and never want to hear it from her beautiful mouth again.I want it to be replaced with my name.

In my head I know that's who he is, but I need to hear it from her.

"Is he your boyfriend?"

She nods. "He's a legend at this university. The engineering building is named after his grandfather. This stuff comes so naturally to him, and it just doesn't to me, no matter how much I love it. Because that's the only class we share this semester I spend so much time worrying about impressing him. I hate to admit that, but it's true."

"You think you're failing because you're working so hard to impress him?"

It doesn't make sense to me. Wouldn't that mean she's working harder than she otherwise would on her assignments?

"Don't you see?" she asks. I want to tell her that I don't, but I stay quiet instead. "I spend so much time thinking about him being in that class with me that I'm not really focusing."

Oh. I still don't get it. Women are confusing. I wonder if Edward can help me with this.

…

We work for a while on an upcoming assignment for class. I can hardly believe how different this is from Saturday.

She's so warm and friendly, just like I always thought she would be. She seems to genuinely enjoy being around me. That fact causes me to loosen up a little and enjoy her company instead of second guessing my every move.

It seems like barely any time has gone by before the sky outside the library is dark.

"Do you think that's our cue to call it a night?" she asks, nodding toward the window.

I don't want to, but she's right. I hate driving in the dark, but for mystery girl I would stay at the library all night.

"Sure."

We pack up our stuff and walk down the three flights of stairs instead of taking the elevator. She says she likes to walk. I like that she likes to walk. It's something I didn't know about her that now I do. I want to learn all I can.

There's a nagging voice in the back of my mind that sounds suspiciously like Edward, telling me I need to walk her to her car. But which one is it?

Analyze the situation.

I look around the parking lot. Okay definitely not the _Harley_. At least I hope not.

I doubt it's the eighties leftovers at the very back either.

That leaves three options and they all look like possibilities.

The next step would be to ask, but I'm terrified to do that. It's probably the best way to perpetuate the stalker image. Thankfully we're halfway through the parking lot and she hasn't said goodnight yet. It seems like she's leading me to her car.

This is promising.

We arrive at a little sporty black car that is coincidentally parked next to my _Prius_.

She turns and smiles, clutching the handle of her bag. "Wednesday?" she asks.

I rub the back of my neck, and grin. "Uh, yeah. I work the same shift so we can meet at the same time if that's okay."

She nods. "I work a short shift that day so I'll come back."

My face falls. "Oh, you don't have to do that. I don't want you to go out of your way."

She places a hand on my chest to calm me. I stare at it, shocked that she's touching me. "Carlisle, it's okay. It's on my way home. I'm not going out of my way. I promise. Besides, I like studying with you."

"You do?"

"Of course." She unlocks her car and throws her bag across the seat before climbing inside. "I'll see you Wednesday. Goodnight, study buddy." She grins and waves as she starts the engine.

All I can do is stand there and wave like an idiot as she drives away.

I think I have a recurring study date.

I can't be sure, of course, but I think I do.

…

When I get home Edward is sitting on the couch watching a movie and looking at something on his laptop.

"You're home later than I expected," he says.

I sit down and grab a slice from the open pizza box. "Are you my mother now?"

"Whoa!" He looks up from the laptop. "Where did that come from?"

"What?"

"That comeback, bro. Damn!"

I shrug, but don't reply.

He looks at me for a minute before he grins. "She's good for you, dude."

I know what he means, but I can't help but hope it might eventually mean more.

One thing's for sure. Mystery girl sure is turning my world upside down.


	6. Chapter 6

_Twilight_ isn't mine, unfortunately.

Mackenzie is wonderful and makes my words so pretty. Kelley and Lauren always have the best comments, and stop me from making very stupid plot mistakes sometimes. Isn't that right, Kelley? I almost killed Edward on accident. Death by cookie. Whoops. Kelley said one of my Edward's being in the hospital is quite enough. She wins at life for catching that for me.

I am so, so sorry for the wait. Things went nuts this week on top of the fact I think my laptop knows I'm replacing it soon. It's rebelling against me. Thanks so much for your patience, and I'll be back on a normal update schedule next week!

* * *

><p>At 9:48 Tuesday evening my phone beeps.<p>

_I'm baking cookies for tomorrow right now._

I smile. Part of me didn't think she would really make them.

Now to form a witty reply. What would Edward say?

_Are they any good?_

I finish the reply with one of her trademark smiley faces but I make mine wink. Hopefully she'll know my reply is in jest.

_Why I never… Of course they're good!_

It's followed by a wink. I think I'm joking around with a girl.

_I'm sure they'll be the best I've ever had._

She sends back a smiley face.

I toss the phone down on the bed and walk out to the kitchen where Edward is cooking something. I'm sure my smile is as smug as a smile can be.

"What's with you?" Edward asks.

"She's baking me cookies."

He drops the spoon he's holding. "Excuse me, I don't think I heard you. She's what?"

"Cookies. Peanut butter are her favorite, and I mentioned I like them too, so she's making them for our study date tomorrow."

"Damn, dude. MG baking you cookies already." He shakes his head and grins. "Damn."

My eyebrows knit together. "What is an MG?"

He looks at me like I've lost my mind. "MG," he says again. "Mystery Girl."

Oh. I guess that should have been as obvious as he thinks it was.

"So how do you know she's really going to bake them?" he asks.

"Because she just texted me that she's baking them right now."

He looks up, shocked. "She's texting you?"

"Yeah. I think she might like me."

I blush just thinking about it. I've never even talked to a girl before, much less spent hours alone in a library with one. And I've never been texted by one. Well… mom thinks she can text me. Really it's just weird, and I told her to stop.

Edward stops what he's doing and turns serious. "Slow down, bro. I really don't think it's a good idea to jump to that conclusion just yet. She has a boyfriend. I know you really like this girl. I just don't want to see you get hurt."

My face falls and I look down, fidgeting with the end of an envelope that's sitting in front of me.

"I know. You don't need to worry. I'm not deluding myself into thinking someone so perfect could be interested in me."

He tosses the towel he's holding onto the table, and leans forward placing his hands on the counter.

"Why do you do this to yourself, Carlisle? Why do you put yourself down so much? You've done it since we were kids."

"I'm just different," I say. "Awkward. I'm not good at socializing like you are."

"That doesn't mean there's anything wrong with you. Take MG for example. You have her up on this pedestal that frankly I don't think anyone could reach, and yet she still takes time to talk to you. She smiles at the things you say, she goes to the library to study with you. Hell, Carlisle, the girl is baking cookies for you as we speak. If you're as worthless as you think why would she do those things? Just think about it, bro. She enjoys being around you because she sees something in you that she likes. Maybe it's not romantic like you would prefer, but that doesn't devalue the fact that she does feel something for you. She's kind to you because she likes who you are inside. She sees beyond the nerd, Carlisle. She wants to know the person underneath the geeky exterior. And I really don't think _she _would like the way you put yourself down all the time. So stop it."

I sigh. I know need to knock it off with the self-deprecating behavior. It isn't easy, though. I've spent my life being knocked down by people who think they're better than me because they posses endless amounts of social grace, and I don't.

But Edward's right about mystery girl. She's everything I've always considered perfect, and she still willingly spends time with me, and even seems to enjoy it.

It's better than nothing. She could have ignored me when she saw me after class that day, but she didn't. She spoke to me. She invited me to study with her. She sought me out, and as a result I think she's become my first real friend.

…

She gives me a small wave and smiles when she walks into class the next day. Her boyfriend glares at me. I wonder if he's capable of any other facial expression.

It's a little easier to pay attention to the lecture today since I know I'll see her again tonight.

I can't stop smiling. I wonder how many cookies she made. It's been so long since I've had them I might eat them all right away.

…

I walk to the bookstore quickly today. As if that will make the next four hours tick by any faster. I think about picking up a brownie on my way, but I settle for just a sandwich instead.

Somehow I don't think those brownies will ever compare to mystery girl's cookies. I already have a new favorite dessert, and I haven't even tasted them yet.

It's busier today than normal. Halfway through my shift a group of girls come through, looking at the school shirts and memorabilia. I can't understand why they keep giggling until I look up and notice that they're watching the two guys I think are football players.

I roll my eyes.

Even though I've only known her for a few weeks, I get the feeling that mystery girl is incredibly more mature than these girls.

I doubt she would follow someone she doesn't know around like a lost puppy.

The irony of that thought jumps out at me like a flashing neon sign with a half naked woman on it.

I'm the one that follows her around like a puppy.

She doesn't seem to mind. That or she doesn't notice. At least I hope she doesn't notice. Is that how she sees me? I sincerely hope not.

…

By the time five o'clock rolls around I all but sprint to the library.

She's walking up the sidewalk from the parking lot when I come around the English building.

I stop walking and wait for her. She smiles and waves for the second time today. I think I want to blush, but oddly I don't think I do. Usually I'm a permanent shade of red around mystery girl, but apparently not today.

"Look what I have," she says when she reaches me. She opens her purse, and I peak inside. There's a Ziploc bag full of little brown cookies.

_Perfect._

We walk up the three flights of stairs, but when we turn the corner there's someone sitting at our table. Maybe I should put our names and the times we're there on it so people will know. Like a schedule.

"Do you want to sit over there?" she whispers, nodding to the big chairs centered around the corner window.

"Sure."

We settle ourselves into two chairs, and I watch as mystery girl drags another chair over and puts her feet on it. She reaches into her bag and pulls out the cookies.

"C'mon, study buddy. It's snack time."

I laugh quietly, glad there's no one around to see us sitting here eating in the library. I know it's allowed, but I'm being protective of the cookies. I don't want anyone else to know we have them.

They're our little secret.

I reach into the bag and pull out the largest one. It looks incredible.

She's watching me anxiously as I eat. It's a little embarrassing, but I know she's waiting to know what I think.

The cookies don't just _look_ incredible. If she made me these cookies everyday for the rest of the school year I would be one happy nerd indeed.

"So you know that quiz we had the other day?"

I nod, confused. Of course I know. I took it, too.

"Guess what I got?"

"A perfect score?"

She laughs. "Close enough."

"Close? Really? Good job, Esme."

She nods and grabs another cookie. "I really think that talk we had helped. I think I wasn't as stressed because I realized what was wrong and put it out of my mind. I just focused on the work."

"That's really great," I say. "I'm proud of you."

She looks at me quizzically and tilts her head to the side. "Thanks, Carlisle. That really means a lot to me."

The fact that I'm proud of her means a lot to her?

I feel the blush wanting to rise in my cheeks, but I remind myself of what Edward said. She wants to be here with me. I shouldn't let myself feel nervous or inadequate around her.

"You're welcome," I mumble.

Okay, so obviously my newfound confidence hasn't reached my vocal chords yet. One step at a time.

"I'm glad you like the cookies," she says suddenly. "Charles isn't a big fan."

"I love them. They're the best cookies I've ever had."

It's not a lie either. They really are the best. Don't tell my mom.

Just like Monday night we work until the sun goes down, and then I walk her to her car. I think I'm getting the hang of this. I don't agonize over what to do or what not to do. The more time I spend with her the easier it gets to loosen up and be myself.

It helps that Edward's voice is usually screaming in my head to relax and enjoy myself.

…

She lets me take the leftover cookies home.

"There's extras?" he asks. "I thought you would have eaten them all."

I roll my eyes but don't reply.

"So are they any good?"

"The best," I say.

"Well, I'll have to take your word for it, dude. Don't feel like going to the hospital tonight."

I smile and walk to my room, flopping down on my bed, closing my eyes. It's been a long day. An amazing day, but a long one.

I smile instantly when my phone chimes a few moments later.

_Thanks for tonight. I know I said it already but I'm really glad you liked the cookies. I can't wait to see you on Monday._

She can't wait to see me on Monday.

A smug grin spreads across my face as I place my hands behind my head and stare at the ceiling, wondering how long this perfect world I'm living in will last.


	7. Chapter 7

I don't own _Twilight_.

Mackenzie L. is the beta. Kr2009 and texasunshine pre-read. They are far too wonderful to me.

I am so, so sorry that I haven't been keeping up on review replies. I try to be good about it, but it doesn't always happen. I'll get better. I promise.

Short update today, but it was the right place to end it. Tomorrow's is longer and full of progress. Enjoy!

* * *

><p>Monday night mystery girl brings another batch of cookies. Much like last week I manage to make polite conversation, and I think I only blush once.<p>

Each time we study together her grades increase steadily on the next assignments. She's so excited about her grades, and her happiness is infectious. I don't think I've ever been as cheerful in my life as I have in the past couple weeks of studying with her.

It makes me feel incredible that she's doing so well on her work. She's succeeding because of me. Because unlike her boyfriend, who doesn't seem to care about his own grades much less anyone else, I actually take an interest in how she's doing.

I want her to succeed at this. Not for bragging rights because I help her. I want her to succeed because I care about her. I want her to be happy. I've always been able to tell that engineering makes her happy. And helping her become an engineer is what makes me happy.

I love the way she smiles at me every time I say something. It isn't that awkward smile most people give me when they pretend they're listening, but really they just want me to shut the hell up.

Yes, we losers know when people don't want to talk to us. We aren't _that_socially inept.

Mystery girl, on the other hand, smiles at me like she never wants me to stop talking. Like she's hanging on my every word.

I realize that it's just wishful thinking, but I don't really care.

Her smile is the last thing I think about before I fall asleep every night, and it's the image that makes me hard in the shower every morning.

That's right, cool kids. We nerds are so visually aware that we don't need things like breasts to make us hard. Not that those aren't great. Mystery girl's are particularly wonderful. But it's her smile and everything behind it that really does the trick for me.

It's the kind of welcoming smile that says she wants me in her life. And there's no place I would rather be.

…

There's storm clouds overhead when I arrive for class on Wednesday. Good. I love rain.

It starts to drizzle once I'm sitting in the classroom.

"Think she'll get wet walking to class?" Edward whispers, raising his eyebrows suggestively.

I roll my eyes and pretend I'm not paying attention to him, but the idea of a sopping wet mystery girl is incredibly appealing. It plays well into my morning shower activities.

Evidently I'm having a great day because when mystery girl walks in she's soaked. She's piling her hair on top of her head and securing it with a rubber band. She smiles sheepishly at me, obviously embarrassed at her appearance.

I think she's never looked more beautiful.

I assume she isn't going to work today because she's in jeans and a black t-shirt.

"Hi, Carlisle," she says.

"Hi, Esme."

Edward looks proud that I neither blushed nor mumbled. I'm rather proud as well.

"I hope this weather clears up by study time." She grins and shrugs. "Then again, the library might be dark and cozy if it doesn't. That would be nice."

She likes dark and cozy? Oh good. My tiny bedroom won't be a problem then.

Class starts and her boyfriend is nowhere to be seen. I am seriously beginning to suspect the dude's family is paying off the university to pass him even though he never shows up for class.

It wouldn't surprise me.

Okay, yes it would, but how can he skip so much without angering the professors or the dean?

I doubt I could get away skipping as much as he does.

Mystery girl, on the other hand, has never missed a single class, and she holds down a full time job. I wonder if her boyfriend has ever worked a day in his life.

I very much doubt that he has.

...

The weather doesn't clear up. In fact, when it's time to meet mystery girl at our usual spot it's raining harder than ever, and there's lightning and thunder.

She's waiting under the building for me.

"I have some bad news," she says.

My heart plummets. She has to leave. I just know that's what she's about to say. Why didn't she just text me, though? I try not to panic while I wait for her to continue.

"I was just inside and the power is flickering. The librarian says they're going to close up early today."

"Oh."

"So I was thinking," she continues, "maybe we can study at my apartment. I called my neighbor and she said it's raining but we still have power. Only if you want to of course. I'll understand if you want to just call it a night since the weather is so bad."

She's rambling, but I barely hear what she's saying. My brain quit working at the words "my apartment."

She wants me in her apartment. Her _home._

It takes a while for my mouth to catch up with my brain, but eventually I'm able to mumble "yes."

"Great!" she says. She sounds genuinely happy that I agreed. "Do you want to follow me in your car? It isn't that far, and we'll go slow because of the rain."

I nod. "Sounds good."

I'm amazed that I'm able to sound so calm on the outside when I am, in fact, freaking out on the inside. I'm going to be in mystery girl's apartment.

_Her apartment._

If ever I needed one of Edward's pep talks it's right now.

The library is one thing, but I'm not sure my newfound confidence will function properly in the place where she lives.


	8. Chapter 8

Mackenzie L. fixes my mistakes, and kr2009 and texasunshine are experts at stroking my ego. I love them very much.

And you. I love you readers very much too.

* * *

><p>She leads me to a nice looking apartment complex. It's gated, and I have to wait behind her as she punches in her code. I follow her all the way to the back and park beside her. We both run under the cover of a hanging balcony, and up a flight of stairs.<p>

There are three stories to the building, but I notice some others have only two. She leads me to the second floor and fumbles with her key in the lock of the nearest door. Hers is one of only two apartments on this level, and I find myself liking the obvious privacy that allows her. I worry about her safety living alone in such a large complex.

At least I hope she lives alone.

Douchebag better not live here. If I see any of his things I may lose my mind. I mean it.

I don't even want to imagine them in a bed together. Especially not her bed. I've never even seen the thing, but I know it deserves better than him.

I find it a bit absurd that I genuinely feel sorry for a mattress, but I can't help it.

She opens the door, and I step into the nicest apartment I've ever been in. It's way better than the crappy thing Edward and I share.

It's small, but something about her inviting furniture and the way it all just seems so warm makes it wonderful.

"Sorry about the mess," she says, throwing her keys onto a side table in the entryway.

I spin around, my eyebrows knit together in confusion as I look at the pristine apartment.

What mess?

She gestures to the bar in the kitchen where there's a few school books and a laptop. "That mess," she says.

Okay… Either mystery girl is reading minds now or I verbalized my question without realizing it. I suspect the latter, as I sincerely hope she can't tell what I'm thinking. She doesn't need to see the depraved things I think about doing to her.

Things that stupid douchebag boyfriend of hers probably has done to her.

I push that thought from my mind. He's not here. I am. In her apartment.

It's a miracle I haven't fainted yet.

"That's not a mess, Esme," I tell her. "I can only imagine what you would think of me and my brother's apartment."

"You guys share a place?" she asks from the kitchen where she's digging around in the fridge.

I rub the back of my neck. "Uh, yeah… yeah we do. It's a small place on the other side of town. This is like being in a palace compared to our apartment."

She looks up at me quizzically. "A palace? My tiny place? I'm not so sure about that." She laughs and the sound makes me smile.

It's then that I realize she's holding a can of Dr. Pepper. "What do you want to drink?" she asks. "I have these, orange soda, water, milk, and lemonade."

Wow. Having that many options is a little overwhelming. Edward and I have water, water, and more water. Oh, and I think there's a case of beer in the very back of our fridge, but I don't even know what kind.

"A Dr. Pepper is fine," I tell her. I don't drink soda all that often, but if it's what she enjoys I'm going to have one too.

She brings me one and walks to the couch.

"Sit," she says, patting the spot next to her.

I'm sure my eyes look like they're going to pop out of my head. She wants me to sit that close to her?

I slowly lower myself onto the couch beside her. I don't feel nearly as nervous or awkward as I thought I would. The soft lamplight and overall feel of her living room relaxes me. And her couch is incredibly comfortable. It's obvious she didn't snatch the old one from her parents' basement like Edward and I did.

She pulls a book out of her bag.

"I guess we should do a little work, huh?"

She sounds about as enthusiastic about that as I feel, which is not at all. I can think of so many other things I would rather be doing with mystery girl right now.

But that might be a little forward, so I play it safe.

"Yeah, I guess we should."

"Or we could just hang out and watch TV as long as the power is still on."

Come again? Did she really just suggest that she wants to hang out with me? As in sit around and do nothing school related?

"That would be nice."

_Good job, Carlisle. Play it cool. Don't let her see how nervous she makes you._

Edward's voice really needs to get out of my head. Then again, he's helping a lot.

She grabs the remote and turns the TV on. It's on HGTV.

I wonder if the fact she's just like my mother should make me run away.

It doesn't.

"What do you want to watch?" she asks.

I shrug. "I don't really watch much TV," I answer honestly.

"I shouldn't," she says. "But sometimes when I get home from work I need to just sit here and do something mind-numbing like watch TV."

I take a chance on a conversation topic.

"Did you not have to work today? I just noticed that you were in jeans."

"No. I worked late last night so that I could have today off. And I'll go in Saturday morning, too. I have to balance out my hours so that they total forty, but the bosses don't really mind when I get those hours. As long as the businesses bills get paid and payroll is done on time, they're really relaxed about the scheduling."

I'm afraid to ask what I really want to know, but by some miracle she beats me to it.

"Besides, Charles is out of town with his family till Sunday so I don't mind working odd hours."

Well at least that mystery is solved, but still, she should work odd hours when he's around so that she doesn't have to be subjected to his presence.

At least it doesn't look like he lives here. I haven't seen anything that could be his yet.

I don't know what to say so I just nod and sip my drink.

"So there's something I've wondered all semester," she says. "Are you and Edward twins?"

"Yeah. Obviously not identical, and I'm two minutes older, but yeah we're twins."

"That's awesome," she says. "I'm an only child so I find the concept of siblings fascinating. I always wanted one growing up."

"It's horrible," I tell her. "I love Edward, but he gets on my nerves sometimes. It was really bad when we were younger."

She tilts her head. "Why?"

I shake my head, not sure if I want to talk about how awful high school was for someone like me. "Just how different we are I guess. We didn't always get along."

She nods. "I bet that's tough. There was no one for me to not get along with except my parents, and that's to be expected."

I laugh. "Yeah, it is I guess."

"But you and Edward seem so close now," she observes.

"Yeah we are. Things changed toward the end of high school. I never thought I'd say it, but now he's my best friend."

"I'm glad," she says. "He's a nice guy."

Edward's a nice guy? That's fine, but what am I?

_Okay, settle down, Carlisle._

She's sitting next to me on this small couch, and we're having a rather intimate conversation. I need to stop over-thinking everything she says.

I glance at her as she's looking out the window behind the couch. It's raining harder than ever, and the parking lot is filling up with water fast.

She sighs. "I wonder how long this rain will last. I love it, but I also love electricity. I don't want the power to go out."

I laugh softly. "I love the rain, too. It's peaceful."

She turns to face me, and her knee grazes my thigh. Is it weird that such a small amount of contact makes my eyes want to roll back in my head? She's so warm. I want more of her to touch me.

"I have an idea," she says suddenly. "I didn't get a chance to make you a batch of cookies last night. Let's make them now."

My eyes widen. "Together?"

"Yeah, why not? It'll be fun. You'll see."

"What if the power does go out?"

She shrugs. "Then we'll have lots of batter to eat."

I laugh again. "Okay, Esme. Let's hope you're a good teacher. I know nothing in the kitchen. I could probably burn water."

She rolls her eyes as she stands up. "I very much doubt that. You'll be perfect."

She extends her hand to me. I know she wants to help me off the couch, but I gawk at her outstretched hand. She wants to hold mine, even if it's just for a few seconds.

I can't help it. I blush and duck my head, as I place my hand in hers. It's soft and warm and I think I might moan as her fingers close around mine.

It's too bad it can't last longer than the brief moment it takes for me to stand.

Before I know it my hand is at my side again and I'm following her to the kitchen. My palm still tingles with the feel of her hand in mine, though. It's an amazing feeling.

Now let's just hope I'm not truly as helpless in the kitchen as I think I am.


	9. Chapter 9

I don't own _Twilight_.

Mackenzie L. is my amazing beta. Kr2009 and texasunshine read this before you do.

Thank you all so much for your continued love of Nerdlisle and his MG! Even though I'm frustrating some of you with the pace. It'll all unfold in it's right time. That's all I can say.

Also, I have received several requests for Esme POV and now both pre-readers and Mackenzie have jumped on that bandwagon, too. I'm not opposed to the idea even though this is truly Nerdlisle's story to tell. But I need more of Esme's back story to unfold before I give you any glimpses into her head. If and when I do it will be in the form of outtakes that will simply post right into the story.

And now I give you... a food fight!

* * *

><p>So many ingredients.<p>

They're everywhere. Literally. The entire kitchen seems to be covered in bottles and bags. I'm not even sure what most of these things are.

"Can you grab me the mixer from the far cabinet by the sink?" she asks.

Far cabinet by the sink. Got it.

I open the cabinet, and there's dozens of tools I've never seen before.

"Umm, Esme? What does a mixer look like?"

I glance up, and she looks like she's trying not to laugh, but it isn't the look I'm used to when people are trying not to laugh at me. It's more like she finds it endearing that I don't know what a mixer is.

"It's the black thing with the plastic case attached to the bottom."

"This?" I ask, holding up a small contraption that has little metal things rolling around inside the clear case.

She glances down. "Yeah, that's it. Thanks."

I stand up straight and place the mixer on the counter. It didn't escape my notice while I was on the floor that my face was right beside her perfect thighs. I really didn't want to move. I could have stayed down there the rest of the night.

I could easily make myself comfortable on her tile floor, turn her waist so that she faces me, and slowly pull the zipper of her jeans down…

"Carlisle?"

"Oh, umm… yeah?"

She giggles. "I asked if you could plug the mixer in over there." She nods to the wall beside me.

I flush red, embarrassed not by the things I wish I could do to her in her own kitchen, but by the fact she caught me fantasizing about them while I was supposed to be helping her.

She picks up the mixer and turns it on, moving it around the bowl until the ingredients are all combined, and it looks like a mess of butter and eggs and peanut butter.

"Can you get me the brown sugar from the cabinet next to the fridge?"

Brown sugar. I think I know what that looks like. Sugar that's the color brown. Should be easy.

I rummage through the cabinet for a minute before finding it and handing it to her. I can't help but feel proud that I didn't have to ask her if what I handed her was really the brown sugar.

I'm getting better at this baking thing.

The last ingredient she puts in the bowl is the flour. A little bit spills over the side of the measuring cup and falls onto the counter.

She looks at it for a moment, her expression mildly annoyed.

I can't help myself. I want to see her smile, so I scoop up the flour with my finger and run it over her cheek. It looks like war paint, but white. More like surrender paint.

She stops what she's doing and stares straight ahead before a slow smile appears.

"Oh, so that's how it's gonna be?"

Before I know what's happening she takes a finger full of flour and gets much more of it on my cheek than I did on hers.

I open my eyes to see a haze of white powder floating in front of my face. She must have gotten a lot on me. I have to remove my glasses and wipe them on my jeans just so I can see clearly.

She's smiling while she watches me. It makes me bold enough to do something insane.

I dip my hand into the bag of flour, and smear it down her arm.

"Carlisle!"

She jumps and starts laughing again as she looks at my hand print on her arm.

She looks ridiculous and beautiful with flour all over her. She looks happy. _I_made her happy.

Even though her kitchen is now a mess and there's flour everywhere and she hasn't even finished mixing the batter yet.

We decide that she'll spoon the batter onto the cookie sheet and I'll do the fork indentions in each cookie. I can't possibly mess that up.

Once the first batch is in the oven she turns to look at me, and starts giggling again.

"You look ridiculous," she says, staring at my blue polo shirt that is now covered in a fine dusting of flour.

"So do you," I retort playfully, even though she doesn't look ridiculous at all. She looks amazing.

She picks up a dishtowel and runs it under the water. My heart nearly stops when she steps closer to me and holds my chin while she removes the streak of flour from my cheek.

She's so close. I can feel her warmth and her scent envelopes me.

It's far too soon when she steps back to examine her work.

"Hand it over," she says, holding out her hand.

I stare at her. "Hand what over?"

"Your shirt. It needs to be cleaned."

She wants to wash my shirt? She wants me to _take off_ my shirt?

She's grinning, but tapping her foot impatiently while I stumble over my racing thoughts.

I slowly pull the shirt over my head, thankful for the white t-shirt I have on underneath. Not that I don't want her to see me without a shirt. I definitely do, but I doubt I'll ever be brave enough for that.

She walks down the hall and reappears a minute later with a bottle of Gain and a washcloth.

"I don't want to put it in the washer because of the weather," she explains as she sets my shirt on the bar and begins to dab at my shirt with the wet washcloth.

She gently massages the laundry soap into the shirt, and I'm fascinated by how meticulously she works, but only one thought will allow itself to be verbalized.

"You have in unit laundry?"

She nods. "It's what sold me on this apartment. I hate the thought of hauling my clothes down to a laundry center and having to bring back up."

I can't say I blame her. Edward and I are afraid of the laundry facilities at our complex. We take ours to our parents' house instead.

"There," she says, holding the shirt up. "No more flour. Do you want to throw it in the dryer for a few minutes while I take the cookies out and do the next batch? It's in the bathroom behind the door."

I nod and walk down the short hallway, turning at the door to the bathroom. I throw the shirt in the dryer and walk back out, stopping for a moment to glance into her bedroom.

It's pristine. There's nothing out of place except for the purse that's sitting on the large dresser. Her bed is huge and set much higher off the ground then mine. It's probably because hers actually is a bed. It has a headboard and everything.

My brain immediately starts envisioning the two of us in that bed. I shake my head, trying to clear it as I walk back into the living room. She's sitting on the couch watching the news.

The news? It's that late already?

"Come sit," she says, patting the seat beside here. "I want to check the weather."

It's easier for me to sit so close to her this time. My heart races, but I don't flush red, and I don't feel faint.

I pull my phone out of my pocket to text Edward and let him know where I am. I'm a little shocked he hasn't called me yet wondering why the hell I'm not at home.

Then I look at the screen and realize I had put the phone on silent hours ago, and he's been blowing it up ever since.

He has to be pissed at me.

I send him a quick text telling him I've been at mystery girl's place. I would give the world to see him sputter and spit out his drink when he reads it.

Actually, no, I wouldn't. If I was there to see him react, I wouldn't be here with my mystery girl. And now that it's late, I've probably overstayed my welcome and should leave. How do I do that, though? I've never left a girl's house before because I've never been to one. I need Edward. I don't know what I'm supposed to do.

I try to calm myself down, relaxing back against the couch and just breathing.

"You still have flour on you," I tease.

She looks down at the hand print on her arm. "I like it. It's like warrior paint."

I laugh loudly.

"I like the way you laugh," she says, watching me while she messes with her hair.

"Thanks," I mutter. My nerves come out of hiding when she compliments me. I don't know how to take compliments.

"It's so real," she tells me. "I love that. How genuine you are. It's refreshing."

Somehow I get the feeling she's comparing me to douchebag in her head. Except in this scenario it looks like I come out on top. That makes me hold my head a little higher.

The TV comes back from commercial and it's time for the weather.

It isn't good.

A lot of streets are flooded, especially around my apartment. I don't know how I'll ever get my car back over there. I could ask Edward to come get me, but the rain is still coming down hard.

Mystery girl gets up and walks to the door. She walks outside for a moment and I see her leaning over the railing, looking at the parking lot.

She comes back in with her arms wrapped around her, and smiles softly at me.

"I think you should stay the night."

* * *

><p>Bwahahaha. Just call me the evil master of cliffhangers.<p> 


	10. Chapter 10

I don't own_ Twilight_.

Mackenzie, Kelley, and Lauren are wonderful. I love them and everything they do for my chapters.

I think I ended Nerdlisle's week on a high note. I hope you guys agree, and I'll see y'all again on Monday!

* * *

><p>My heart is pounding in my ears.<p>

"You… what?"

She pulls anxiously on the end of her shirt and looks at the floor while she speaks. She's nervous.

"It's really flooded out there. I think it would be better if you stay here. I can make us something to eat, and you can sleep on the couch. I just don't want anything to happen to you if you try to go back out in this weather."

I want to answer her, but I can't speak. All my insecurities that I've been trying to hide come rushing back, and I can hardly open my mouth to make a sound.

"Please, Carlisle," she says. "For my peace of mind. I hate the thought of sending you out there with the streets in such bad condition."

"Okay," I manage to stutter.

I don't want her to worry about me. It occurs to me that I love the fact she does worry about me, but my brain is still stuck on her request and hasn't caught up with my mouth yet.

She smiles, and my mind goes blank again. "Great! Are you hungry? I can make us something when the last batch of cookies comes out."

"You don't need to go through any trouble," I say softly. I can't seem to meet her eyes. I keep staring at the couch cushion, my body wracked with nerves at the thought of spending the night here.

"It's no trouble," she assures me. She's already in the kitchen, taking the cookies out of the oven.

She brings a couple of cookies from the first batch into the living room and hands one to me before sitting on the loveseat.

"We can't just eat these cookies all night. I can make us individual pizzas on flatbread. They're really good and only take a few minutes."

I nod, finally giving in. "That sounds delicious."

…

She's right. It's only ten minutes later that I'm holding a warm plate with a pizza on it, and she's changed the channel to CNN.

Evidently mystery girl likes the news.

My phone vibrates in my pocket before I can even take a bite. I roll my eyes.

"Has to be Edward."

Mystery girl laughs. "He's probably worried about you."

"I told him I was here," I say.

"Well you can take it in the bedroom if you want. He'll probably freak out if you ignore him."

I nod absentmindedly and walk down the hall as I answer the phone. It takes several moments for me to realize exactly what she suggested, the fact I agreed to it, and where I am now.

"Whoa," I whisper into the phone as I spin around. I'm in her bedroom.

"What? What happened? Are you all right, bro?"

MG was right. He's freaking out.

"I'm in her bedroom."

"WHAT?"

I can practically hear him dropping whatever he's holding.

"Dude, what in the hell happened in the last few hours? One minute you're going to the library to study with her in this insane weather, the next you're in her apartment, and now you're telling me you're in her bedroom!"

"I don't know," I say. "She asked me to stay on her couch tonight. There's no way I can get the car home in this."

"Holy hell, bro."

"I know."

"So, you're not coming home tonight?"

"No."

"Well, don't do anything I wouldn't do."

I roll my eyes again. "Helpful, Edward. Really helpful."

"What do you want me to say? It sounds like you've got everything under control."

"I don't," I tell him. "I'm trying to stay calm, but I'll be sleeping in the same apartment as her. I'm ready to have a panic attack!"

"Okay, settle down. She wants you to stay there because she obviously worries about your safety and doesn't want you driving in this rain. I don't blame her at all for that. What did I tell you the other day? Stay calm, and don't let her see how nervous she makes you. I swear, I'm going to write that on a post it note and staple it to your forehead."

I try to laugh, but I'm too busy trying to regaining control of my racing thoughts.

"I'll be okay," I say. "I have to go. She made food for us and it's getting cold."

"All right. Just remember to enjoy yourself above everything. Who knows when you'll be able to spend time with her like this again."

I nod even though he can't see me. I tell him goodbye before I hang up the phone. I look around one more time, now that I'm really in here. It smells like vanilla. Her blanket is blue, like mine. Unlike mine, hers looks new and comfortable – like if I crawled under it I would never want to come out again.

She has two dressers. One with a mirror, and a tall one with a TV on top of it. There are a couple pieces of art on the walls, and the carpet has those marks that say she vacuums every day.

She gets more perfect with everything I learn about her.

I walk back down the hall, my head bent, and my shoulders slumped.

Why would someone as amazing as her even give me the time of day, much less insist I stay on her couch because of the rain?

I sit down on the couch and immediately start eating my pizza. I'm hungrier than I realized.

"This is amazing, Esme." Apparently homemade pizza is all it takes to bring back what little confidence I have. "You're a wonderful cook."

She blushes. She actually blushed.

"It's nothing," she says. "I'm not that good."

"Yes, you are," I insist. "Who has ever told you that you're not?"

She rubs her arm, curling in on herself like she's trying to disappear. I recognize the move. It's a trick I perfected in high school.

"No one," she says. "It just isn't every day that people compliment me the way you do."

I make it my mission right then and there to compliment her every time I see her.

"People should compliment you," I tell her. "You're perfect."

I hold my breath. I don't know where I found the courage to say something so bold, but I can't take it back now. I hope she doesn't think I'm insane.

She shakes her head. "Don't say that, Carlisle. I'm just a girl. I'm nothing special."

Why does she think that? It's hard for me to imagine how humble she is. She should know how perfect she is. I wish she would believe me.

I can't even be nervous about her reaction to my words. All I care about is making her understand.

I don't know if it's the fact it's late and there's very little light in the room, meaning she can't see me blush. Maybe it's the rain outside that started all of this. I want it to be the fact that mystery girl seems to be opening up to me.

Whatever it is, something makes me brave enough to blurt out what I've suspected all along.

"Does _he_ make you feel that way?" My voice is a whisper and my words are mumbled, but I want to pat myself on the back just for saying them.

She sighs and rests her head against the couch, watching me. Her eyes are scrutinizing, and I can't look at them. I stare at the floor, fidgeting more and more the longer I wait for her to speak.

The seconds tick by and my panic is skyrocketing. I feel like I'm sweating even though it's a little cold in the room. Maybe I should have kept my mouth shut. Why did I have to ask her something so personal? All I wanted to do was make her see that she's amazing, even if she doesn't think so. What if I over-stepped my boundaries?

One day when I'm a very old man, I'm going to write a step-by-step instruction manual for losers on how to deal with girls who are too good for them.

I never thought this would be easy, but then again I never thought I would be in a situation like this at all.

Finally, when I feel like I'm going to be sick if she doesn't say something soon, she sighs again.

"He loves me," she whispers. "I know he does."

I hold my breath and don't respond, praying she'll continue.

"But we come from very different backgrounds. He grew up privileged. I didn't. He's used to people tripping over themselves to make him happy. It doesn't always occur to him to return the favor."

I'm terrified to ask any of the millions of questions that are spinning around my head. I don't want to make her angry or scare her out of saying anything.

I decide on something safe.

"How long have you been together?"

"Two years."

Two years? Don't couples usually live together after that long? What is up with this dude? Oh my goodness, I sound like my brother.

She told me that he loves of her. That's something I'm not convinced of at all. But I want to know if she really loves him. I've seen them kiss. They put on a good show, but I want to know how real it is.

I can't possibly ask that, though. I'm sure I'm going to throw up from nerves if I even open my mouth right now.

"I just wish he would tell me sweet things like you do more often."

Her voice is so soft I almost don't hear it. I get the feeling she might have said it to herself. She's looking down and fidgeting with a loose thread on her jeans.

The more she says the more I get the feeling we aren't as different as I think we are. I've been laughed at and looked down on my entire life because societal perceptions tell people I wasn't worth their time simply because I'm not as beautiful and graceful as they are. Mystery girl has grace and style, but the one person who is supposed to cherish her and make her feel special obviously doesn't do that.

I just wish she could see that she deserves so much more than him.

"You deserve to be told sweet things every day, Esme. I want to tell you something sweet every day."

She lifts her head, and her smile is so beautiful it's like when people in books describe smiles as blinding. I never understood that phrase until this moment.

"Thanks, Carlisle," she says. "That really means a lot to me."

I answer with a smile of my own.

"It's getting late," she says. "We should probably get some sleep."

I nod. I don't want to stop talking but I am exhausted. I yawn involuntarily and she smiles.

"I'll get you a pillow and blanket. The couch is actually really comfortable to sleep on."

She comes back a minute later with one of the pillows from her bed and a big comforter that I didn't see before. It's tan and suede. Just like the couch.

I thank her quietly and stare at the floor, expecting her to turn out the light and leave.

Instead I feel a light pressure on my arm and look over to see her kneeling down next to me.

"Thank you for listening, Carlisle. I know we've just been studying together, but you're a really great friend."

She rubs my arm, and kisses my cheek before walking to the bedroom. I don't breathe until I hear the door click when it closes.

I fall back against the pillow, a wide smile on my face. My face is warm where her lips touched my skin. Her scent surrounds me, and I realize she gave me her pillow. It occurs to me the other one probably smells like her boyfriend, but I don't care.

She gave me the pillow that she sleeps on. She kissed my cheek. She opened up to me.

My brother is an idiot.

MG has to like me.

I roll over and close my eyes, still smiling, knowing this will probably be the best night's sleep I'll ever get.


	11. Chapter 11

I don't own _Twilight_. Nope, not at all.

Thank you to the lovely Mackenzie for editing this while sick. I love you, twin. Feel better. This chapter wasn't pre-read because Kelley is busy having a life today and Lauren is at work. I love them anyway.

Thank you so much for reading and reviewing! It really means so much to me that you guys love Nerdlisle as much as I do.

Also, a little housekeeping. For those of you who read AtR I updated over the weekend in case you didn't see it.

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><p>Coffee. I smell coffee. And mystery girl. Why do I smell mystery girl? And why in the world does it feel like I'm sleeping on a couch?<p>

Someone is shaking my arm. Not very hard, but still. It's too early. I don't want to get up.

I groan and roll over. "Don't wanna," I mumble.

There's giggling. Who would be giggling? It isn't Edward. That's for sure.

"Carlisle," a voice whispers. "You need to wake up."

My eyes fly open at the sound of that voice, and it all comes back to me.

Mystery Girl. I'm in her apartment. We baked cookies. We talked about douchebag. She asked me to spend the night on her couch.

Well, that explains that.

It takes a minute for my eyes to focus, but when I can finally see, mystery girl is kneeling next to the couch, already dressed in a thin skirt and nice shirt. She's holding a mug of warm coffee and looks way too awake for it being so early.

"Hi," she says.

"Hi. What time is it?"

"A little after seven. According to the morning news classes are cancelled because several buildings on campus have water damage and flooding."

"Oh." Well that's good. I really don't feel like going to school today. Not after the amazing night I had. School would just bring my high down.

But mystery girl is dressed like she's going to work anyway. I guess I should get up and see if my car is full of water.

"Do you want any breakfast?" she asks. "I made myself a bagel. I can make you one, too."

"That's okay," I mumble. "I guess I should get home and see if Edward's still alive."

She giggles. "At least have some coffee. You're still not very awake."

I nod and make my way to the kitchen. Her coffee pot is so inviting. It's full of delicious caffeine. I drink two cups.

She sits at the bar, watching me with a smile. She's far too perky for it being so early. I want hold that against her, but I can't. She's too beautiful. And she opened up to me last night, at least a little bit. Maybe I can get her to say more soon. It's like a wall between us was torn down last night, and I don't ever want it to go back up.

"Will you text me when you get home?" she asks. "So I know you made it there all right?"

I nod. I wish she knew I would do anything she asks. Anything for her.

…

When I walk into our apartment, Edward is sitting on the couch with a bowl of cereal.

"No school today, bro!" He reaches up for a high-five. He's like a fourteen-year-old kid who's just been told summer vacation came a day early.

I roll my eyes but smile as I collapse onto the couch next to him. I don't think I'm tired anymore, but I am drained.

To any outsider, last night would have looked like any typical evening between friends. It's so much more than that for me, though. I don't have friends. Only Edward and now mystery girl, and frankly I'm still having trouble accepting that as being true. I'm not the kind of person someone like her should be friends with.

I often wonder what first made her speak to me that day in the courtyard. She could have pretended I wasn't there. That's what people normally do around me.

I shake my head to clear it. Girls are confusing.

"So," Edward begins, nudging my shoulder on his way to the kitchen, "how was your night?"

"It was great," I say.

"That's all you're gonna say? Great?"

"What do you want?"

"Well, what did you do all night? I can't help you figure things out if you don't share?"

He's right. I never asked for his help, but he knows I need it. Instead of unraveling the mystery of mystery girl, last night only added more pieces to the puzzle.

"She's complicated," is all I say.

He furrows his eyebrows as he sits back down. "Complicated how?"

I shrug. "I guess I just expected her to be simple. Like most girls."

He holds up his hand, basically telling me to shut up. "Okay, stop right there, bro. Your first mistake is thinking that any girl is simple. Some may seem that way, but I've never found a single one who actually is."

"I don't know," I say. "She's so beautiful, and she looks just like those girls we went to high school with who would look down on me while their stupid football player boyfriends would laugh and push me around. I guess I thought she would _act _just like them."

"When are you going to learn to let that go?" he asks. "We've been out of high school for two years, bro. You need to stop hanging on to all that baggage. I know it sucked for you. I know for a long time that was my fault. But you have to stop living in the past. Look at you now, dude. Back then did you ever think a girl like Esme would eventually have your phone number? Or that she would use it?"

I shake my head. I'm pretty sure if my high school self could see me now his jaw would hit the floor.

"Well, there you go," he continues.

"She's just so different," I say. "The way she talked to me last night, it's like she really wants to get to know me."

He nods. "So let her, Carlisle. Stop shutting her out because you think you're somehow not good enough to talk to her."

Why is always right? I hate it. He needs to be wrong so I can rub his smug face in it.

But this is something I don't want him to be wrong about, and I know I can trust his judgment about mystery girl. Edward is good with the ladies. They trip over themselves to get to him, and he's so good at being smooth and charming. On the other hand there's me, the guy who can't even speak to a girl, and turns beet red just being in front of one.

Except around mystery girl. I was nervous around her when I didn't know her, but once she expressed an interest in spending time with me, something about her made it easier not to clam up.

Even though I still mumble and usually can't look her in the eye, I know I'm miles beyond how shy I used to be.

I have her to thank for that.

…

Once I'm in my room and lying down I remember she asked me to text her when I got home. That was an hour ago. I hope she's not worried. That small insecure voice in the back of my mind asks me why I think she would possibly worry over me, but I know better than to listen to that voice anymore.

She will worry if I don't text her.

I pull my phone out of my pocket and send her a message with the biggest smile on my face.

_I made it home. There wasn't even any water in the car._ I send a little wink smile with it, and hope she'll smile when she sees the message.

Almost instantly my phone lights up.

_I'm glad. I had fun last night. We should hang out like that again soon._

I think I may have just stopped breathing. This has got to stop happening around her. Then again, death by mystery girl is probably the best way to go.

Stay cool, Carlisle.

I manage to text back, _I would like that._

That sounds good. It's not too excited in a stalker kind of way, so I feel like it's a success.

It takes a few minutes but eventually I get a response.

_Can I call you if I get bored and want someone to talk to?_

If I didn't stop breathing before I really did now. Calling or texting for school purposes is one thing, but just to talk? That's something else. There are little fireworks going off in my brain like my every dream is coming true.

I barely manage to type _sure_before I drop the phone onto the bed and collapse against the pillows.

She wants to talk on the phone. When we aren't studying. When she's bored, she said. She could just as easily call her douchebag boyfriend and ask him to go over there and do things to her that I don't want to imagine.

Instead she asked if she could call me.

I feel like a five-year-old kid who just got kissed on the playground. I hope this feeling never goes away.


	12. Chapter 12

Mackenzie is my hero. That is all. Thank you for editing this, twin. ILY. I also love Kelley and Lauren for being available to pre-read on such short notice. They are my heroes as well.

There's a small time jump in this one from Friday morning to Monday night. There is also a long footnote at the bottom for those that might not be able to follow parts of their conversation.

Thank you for all the favorites, and alerts, and reviews! They absolutely make my day and I love you all!

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><p>It's late Monday night when my phone rings. Really late. I drift out of sleep slowly wondering why I didn't put it on silent like I normally do. The shrill ringing hurts my ears, and I feel around for it on my nightstand. Everything is so blurry without my glasses.<p>

Hello," I mumble when I finally find the phone.

"Carlisle?"

_Esme._

Her voice is soft, but she sounds scared. It sounds like she's crying, but I'm barely awake and I'm probably imagining that.

"Esme? What's wrong?"

"Were you sleeping?" she asks. "Did I wake you? Oh, I knew I shouldn't have called you. It's so late. Never mind. I'm sorry I woke you up. I'll just talk to you in class tomorrow."

She's rambling almost incoherently. Something's wrong, and that wakes me up instantly. I rub my face, trying to focus.

"Esme, it's fine," I tell her soothingly. "I'm awake. Tell me what's wrong. Please? You don't sound okay."

She sniffles. I definitely didn't imagine it. She's really crying.

"He… He… I caught…"

She starts crying harder. She can barely speak. My heart breaks as I listen to her. There's an ache in my chest where it's shattered. I don't even need her to finish speaking. I know what that bastard did.

She sobs for a few minutes, and when she speaks again her voice is detached. It's like she's in shock.

"He was with a girl at his parents' house. I went to surprise him after work, knowing his parents wouldn't be there. I should have known that something was wrong when he told me to call him before I came. I got off a little early and just wanted to surprise him."

She sobs again, and the sound tears at my already broken heart. I want to jump in my car, rush to her apartment and just hold her.

"They… They were in his bed. She had the nerve to ask him who I was. I was standing there with his house keys in my hand, already crying, and she didn't even know who I was."

"I'm sorry, Esme." And I am. I've hated that asshole since the first time I saw him, but mystery girl saw something worthy in him. Somewhere deep down he possessed some quality that she fell in love with, and now her heart is in pieces and mine is right there with it.

"I don't know if I am or not," she whispers. "I'm so confused. I just can't believe he would betray me like that."

I can't either. Who in their right mind would cheat on mystery girl? She's a living, breathing, classic pinup model. Douchebag must not have eyes. I don't even need to see the girl he was with to know she isn't half as beautiful as Esme.

I silently listen to her sob until I can't take it anymore. "He doesn't deserve you, Esme. I don't know him at all, but I've known since the beginning of the semester that he doesn't deserve you."

"I know I tell you all the time, but you're too good to me," she says. "I really want to ask you to come over, but it's so late. Will you just talk to me? I don't want to be alone."

I cannot stand the thought of her feeling lonely. I don't care what time it is. "I'm coming over there. You need a friend."

…

Half an hour later I'm knocking on her door. Before we hung up she gave me the gate code for her apartment so I could get over here. It took no time at all to throw on some clothes and drive all the way across town. Or maybe it did. I don't know. All I could think about was getting to mystery girl.

When she opens the door, my heart breaks for her all over again.

I can tell she's been furiously wiping mascara off her cheeks. Her eyes are bloodshot from crying, she's wearing sweat pants and holding a mug of tea.

"Hi, Carlisle," she says quietly. She tries to smile, but it disappears quickly.

She lets me in and returns to the couch. I sit down on the other side and notice the box of tissues on the coffee table.

I can't help my small laugh when I notice she has _Gilda_playing on the TV.

She tilts her head and looks confused. "What's funny?"

"Nothing," I say. "Nothing's funny."

"Please tell me. I need to hear something funny right now."

This is embarrassing. I'm about to expose thoughts I never wanted her to know about, but I can't help it. She wants to laugh. Even if it's at my expense I want to make her laugh.

I nod my head toward the TV. "You look like her," I say simply.

"I… I look like Rita?"

I nod. "It was actually my first impression of you."

And then she states the obvious, and I want to laugh again. "But I'm not a redhead."

I shrug. "Neither was she, really."

"True," she says, turning to face me. She pulls her legs beneath her so she's sitting Indian style, and she seems so vulnerable.

I want to hold her and tell her that she's so much better than him. That she deserves to be treated like a queen.

"Sometimes I wish I was like Gilda," she says quietly, staring at the couch. "Maybe if I didn't care I wouldn't get hurt."

"But she did get hurt," I point out. "She hurt badly through the whole film. Everything Johnny did hurt her."

"He pretended not to love her."

"Exactly, Esme." I turn and face her, matching her position. "You wish you were the image Gilda portrays. The carefree heartbreaker. But that wasn't really her. And it really isn't you either."

"I just keep wondering what I did that made him seek out someone else."

"Hey," I tell her, lifting her chin. "You didn't do anything. Don't start thinking like that. Can I make a comparison and see how much random trivia you know at the same time?"

She laughs and the sound makes what I'm about to say absolutely worth it.

"Judy Garland."

"What about her?"

"Did you know that Welles had an affair with her while married to Rita?"

She nods. "I've heard that."

"Okay, now for my comparison. Would you cheat on you with Judy Garland?"

She looks completely confused, and I can't really blame her. I just confused myself.

"And by that I mean think of yourself as Rita. You are the goddess, Esme. You don't deserve what he did to you, but you definitely didn't cause it either."

She ducks her head and smiles softly before mumbling, "But I love Judy Garland."

I laugh. "So do I. I'm just making a cheating comparison. And really I only brought it up because, like I said, I've always thought you look like Rita."

"Well, thank you, Carlisle. You always know how to make me feel better. You're an amazing catch, and one day you'll make some lucky girl very, very happy."

Oh, mystery girl.

I want to cry. Why can't she see that I want that girl to be her?

I look upand she's smiling softly at me, but at the same time it's like she can read my mind. She's pulling at a loose thread on the couch now.

Her tears are gone and she looks happier than she did when I got here. I did that to her. I made her happy.

I briefly toy with the idea of doing something completely stupid like kissing her, but I can't. Even though I may make her happy as a friend, I still don't believe she could want more than that from a shy dork with glasses and messy hair.

"You don't agree, do you?" she asks. "You don't think you're a good catch."

I shake my head. I have to do this. I have to tell her. She opened up to me a little. Now it's time for me to return the favor.

"I'm a loser," I say. "I'm not good with people. I don't think a girl could ever see me like that."

"Carlisle, when I tell you that you're amazing do you believe me?"

I nod.

"Why is it different when I say it but not when anyone else does?"

"I don't think I want to believe anyone else."

I almost gasp when I hear my own words. Why did I just admit that to her?

She watches me closely for what feels like hours, and I'm terrified to even breathe. I have the strong urge to run away, but I don't. I can't. I came over here because she didn't want to be alone. I won't back away now.

Finally she speaks. "You feel something deeper than friendship for me, don't you?"

She caught me. I know she knows. It's obvious in her voice. But she doesn't sound like scared by it. She's curious, but I think she's also receptive to the idea.

At least I hope she is. I speak before I can talk myself out of my newfound bravery. "Yes."

I keep my eyes on the couch cushion until she puts her finger under my chin and lifts my eyes to meet hers.

Was she always sitting this close, or did she move forward?

I don't even have time to react to how close she is before she leans forward and gently presses her lips to mine.

* * *

><p>They kissed! How will Nerdlisle react? I don't know yet either.<p>

Also, put your pitchforks away, Wizard of Oz fans, and read my footnote.

It is a known fact that Orson Welles had a brief fling with Judy Garland while married to Rita Hayworth. Nerdlisle bringing it up was his way of showing MG that she did nothing to cause Charles to cheat on her. I love Judy Garland hard, and really don't want anyone thinking I don't. On the other hand, if you hang out with me on Twitter you know I worship the ground Rita Hayworth walks on. I sneak her into my writing a lot. *cough* AtR *cough*

The movie MG was watching, Gilda, was released in 1946 and was the film that really solidified Rita's place as Hollywood's leading sex symbol.

Nerdlisle's comment about MG being the goddess was a play on Rita's nickname. She was known throughout her career as "The love goddess."

And that is all for today's random trivia from the glory days of Hollywood.


	13. Chapter 13

I don't own _Twilight_.

Thank you to Mackenzie L for the beta work and to kr2009 for pre-reading. Texasunshine was at work and therefore unavailable today.

Thank you all so much for reading, and to those of you on the east coast, stay safe this weekend.

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><p>She's kissing me.<p>

She's actually kissing me.

Her lips meet mine for a brief moment, and my heart is racing so fast I'm surprised it hasn't fallen out of my chest yet. My palms are sweaty, my mind is going in a thousand different directions, and I feel like I'm going into cardiac arrest – and mystery girl doesn't notice any of it.

She giggles when she pulls back. I cannot imagine what is so funny.

"You look like a deer in the headlights."

I'm sure I do. I'm shocked I don't look like I'm about to drop dead since that's how I feel.

I can't speak. She needs to say something because I can't open my mouth right now. I'm trying, but it won't work.

I don't think I can even put words to everything I'm thinking right now. I want her to kiss me again. Better yet I want to be brave enough to kiss _her_. I want to ask her why she did it, and what was going through her mind.

"Would you believe me if I said I've thought about doing that for weeks?"

I shake my head. I really have a hard time imagining that to be true.

She pushes her hair behind her ear and looks down. "Well, I have. I told you I was confused and not sure if I was sorry about what happened with Charles. That's because of you."

"Me?" I manage to choke out.

_What is she talking about?_

She nods. "I don't know how to explain it. I didn't tell you because I was trying to ignore it myself, but Charles and I had been having problems as it was. He was so wonderful in the beginning, but something changed at some point. He would want to take me out all the time, instead of just hanging out with me at home. I started feeling like I was just a decoration he could show off to his friends. Two whole years and we didn't even live together. What does that tell you?"

I knew it.

"I was afraid to leave him," she continues, wrapping her arms around herself protectively. "I don't even know why."

I hear what she says, but I can't help the fact I nearly ask why.

"Did he ever… Did he hurt you?"

Her eyes widen. "Oh, no. Nothing like that." She sighs. "It's hard to explain. I haven't always been as beautiful as you tell me I am, you know."

I doubt that's true.

She moves so that she's sitting with her legs propped up on the coffee table and rests her head against the back of the couch.

"My parents were poor and really strict," she tells me. "I wasn't allowed to have nice clothes or wear makeup. My hair was kept long, and all I could really do with it was braid it every day." She laughs. "I was like a walking bag of high school loser stereotypes, right down to the glasses and braces."

She's finally opening up to me for real. I never thought she would tell me this, though. I can't imagine her any other way than with her perfect curls and beautiful face. And the way she carries herself is so full of confidence. Where did she get it?

"The perfect popular girls picked on me of course, but for the most part people just ignored me. I hated it so much. All I wanted was to be one of them – one of those flawless girls with the shiny blond hair and a perfect life. That's why I envy you, Carlisle. You're so sure of yourself. It's like you don't care how people see you."

Is she talking about me? The Carlisle Cullen who nearly stops breathing every time he speaks to her? To an extent she's right in that I don't care about how people see me, but it's only because I've become so used to being ignored. I don't expect anything else.

"You're wrong, Esme. I care how _you_see me."

She smiles. "You know how I see you. You're amazing. Anyway, so when I graduated I got my job and immediately got contacts. I cut my hair short and started wearing makeup. I even took classes to learn how to apply it right. I dreamed every day in high school of being allowed to have all these things that I could suddenly buy for myself. It was amazing. Charles was the first guy to ever notice me. He made me feel special and beautiful. I'dnever had that before. Even though he came from wealth, and I knew we didn't have much in common, I fell hard for him."

I really hate that asshole. Everything I had thought was true. She was nothing more than his arm candy, and he had to know the way he took advantage of her obviously deep insecurities. I may not have people skills, but I have observation skills. I can see how she feels about herself beneath all her outer perfection.

It does nothing to change the way I see her, though. All I want is to make her understand how wonderful she is without needing to be someone's trophy to feel that way.

I would never even think something like that about her. All I want is for us to be equals.

And I'm starting to act like we're already dating. Great, Carlisle. Just great. It was one kiss. I can't let myself over-think things.

Even though she's opened up to me so much, I can't help but compare all this new information to what happened tonight. Did she kiss me because she's hurting and wants to feel close to someone? I hate that thought, but given the depth of her insecurity it's possible.

"Why did you kiss me?" I whisper.

I think I'm shaking with nerves. I'm terrified I'm about to have my suspicion confirmed.

"I thought it would be obvious," she says. "I said Charles and I had been having problems. They were because of me. Because I was growing distant from him the closer you and I became."

I raise my eyebrow. She really wants me to believe I was affecting their relationship?

"That sounds ridiculous to you doesn't it?"

I nod. "It does."

She sighs. "It true, Carlisle. I wish you could see that. I'll admit I never thought of leaving him, but I enjoy being around you more. You're fun, and you make me smile, and I can be myself around you."

"I don't want you to kiss me because you're lonely," I tell her softly.

"I didn't. I kissed you because I've thought about kissing you for weeks. I know how you see me, Carlisle. I don't deserve the perfect perception you seem to have of me. I get nervous around you too, and when you admitted to having feelings for me I knew I could show you that I feel something for you too."

Wait a minute. What?

"You… You feel something for me?"

She smiled softly. "I think so."

"What… What do you mean?"

"I mean I'm afraid you'll think this is like a rebound thing, and it's not. But at the same time I think I need some time to figure myself out. I don't really know me anymore."

I nod. I can accept that. I want to help her discover who she is outside of being douchebag's beautiful trophy.

"So what do we do?" I ask.

"Are you tired?"

I shake my head. "Not really anymore."

"Me neither. And since I've now discovered we share a mutual love for classic movies why don't we just finish _Gilda_?"

I smile. "I like that idea."

"Will you hold me?"

Will I…? Did she just ask me to do what I think she asked me to do?

She's looking at me with wide, nervous eyes, and I realize everything she said is completely true. She does get just as nervous around me as I get around her. She's just much better at hiding it. Before I can even form a response she pulls the blanket over from the other couch, wraps it around her shoulders, and settles herself into my side.

I think this is the part where I'm supposed to put my arm around her, so I do that. It feels hot in her living room. I don't think it is. I think that's me freaking out about how close mystery girl is. She puts her arm over my stomach and my eyes roll back just from that one simple touch.

I try to relax and be comfortable while we watch the rest of the movie. Even for how awkward I feel I'm happy to finally have mystery girl in my arms.


	14. Chapter 14

I would very much love to own _Twilight_, but sadly that is not the case. I do own a fancy new pair of boots, though, so at least that's something.

My beautiful twin, Mackenzie L is wonderful enough to beta this for me, and Kr2009 and texasunshine encourage every word so well. I love them very much.

I want to apologize for the lack of updates this week. It was the first week of fall semester and this one is going to be rough. I will still try as hard as possible to get updates out several times a week, along with finishing AtR, and working on Shattered. It will all get finished. Never fear.

I also want to say thank you to everyone who voted for me in the summer citrus contest. Le Mascherata won second place! Thank you, thank you, thank you.

As always, thank you so much for reading, and I love you all!

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><p>Mystery girl's homemade cinnamon rolls are the most delicious food in the world. Just so we're clear on that.<p>

Neither of us have slept yet, but I'm not particularly tired. I think this is called an adrenaline high. She declared that she does feel something for me, and as a result I can hardly think straight, but there's no way I could fall asleep yet.

I don't care right now that she asked for a little time to figure things out for herself. I can give her that. She needs that.

But in the meantime, holding her last night while we watched the movie was more incredible than I can articulate. It was even better than the cinnamon rolls that are sitting in front of me now.

She joins me on the sofa with a plate of her own.

"Do you have class today?" she asks.

I nod. "I'm not going. I'll fall asleep in the middle the lecture if I do."

She laughs. "I'm not either. I've never missed a class, but I'm exhausted. I need some sleep."

"I'm sorry," I tell her. I hang my head, ashamed that I kept her up all night by coming over here.

"What for?"

"We stayed up all night. It's my fault you didn't get any sleep."

She laughs again. "Oh, Carlisle, it's not your fault at all. It's Charles fault for being such an asshole."

At this point I'm sure my jaw is hanging wide open. I've never heard her curse before. Nor have I ever heard her speak about another person like she just did.

He really pissed her off. I must tell Edward to never let me get on her bad side.

She smiles and leans over to kiss my cheek. I can feel myself blushing.

"You were exactly what I needed last night. Please don't apologize for being there for me when I needed someone. I don't know many people who would just drop everything in the middle of the night the way you did."

I want to tell her I would do anything for her. Anything at all.

I settle for another "I'm sorry" which she rewards with a reproving glance, and then another smile.

"Stop being sorry!"

"I'm so-" She places a finger against my lip to silence me. Then she does something truly terrifying. She kisses me. All she does is touch her lips to mine for a moment but for the second time in the last twenty-four hours I feel like I've been hit by lightning.

"I like the way you look when I do that," she says.

Now I'm confused. "Why?"

She shrugs. "You look happy. I like to see you happy."

I desperately want to show her just how happy she makes me. I wish I was brave enough to pull her into my arms and kiss her hard. Make her forget all about douchebag with just one kiss.

But she said she needs some time, and I need to respect that. I'll let her make any advance she wants, but I need to give her the space to make those decisions.

Or maybe I'm just being a coward and am coming up with stupid excuses not to man up and kiss the girl.

I think I may have just quoted Disney.

I shake my head to clear it and glance over at mystery girl. I shouldn't call her that anymore, should I? She's not such a mystery after last night.

She's watching me curiously. She does that a lot. I wonder what she's thinking when she looks at me like that.

A little voice that sounds suspiciously like my annoying brother says to ask her.

I don't think I can.

"I think I'm going to call off work today, too. I have the sick time, so it should be fine. They're really understanding. I'm just too worn out to do anything." She touches my arm. "Do you want to stay, or do you need to get home?"

I want to stay. I desperately want to stay.

"Do you want me to stay?" I ask nervously.

She nods and bites her lip. "I do."

…

After we eat breakfast she does the dishes while I send a text to Edward telling him that I'm at mystery girl's place, and I'll explain everything later.

I get a wink smiley face in return. Real mature, Edward.

"Carlisle?"

I turn around. She's standing at the sink, watching me carefully.

"We both need sleep, but I don't want you to stay on the couch this time."

Is she saying what I think she's saying? If she is, she'd better say it already before I black out and am unable to stutter a coherent response.

"I want you to sleep in the bed with me."

Oh. My. God.

I can feel the sweat on my forehead. My hands are clammy and shaking even though the apartment is cool. She wants me in her bed. With her. Both of us there together. Granted it's just a nap, but I would still be in her bed at the same time as her.

I'm sure I look like an idiot sitting on her couch gaping at her, but I'm sure she's used to it by now.

She walks to where I sit and takes my hand. "Please?"

I swallow the lump in my throat and manage to nod. She smiles beautifully as she leads me to the bedroom. She pulls back the covers and slips under them, fully clothed, pulling me in with her.

I love that she knows how terrified I am and doesn't do anything to shed light on that. She moves so easily around me that the more time I spend with her the easier it is to have the confidence to instigate things.

Bolstered by her apparent comfort around me I do something that's either extremely brave or extremely dumb.

I put my arms around her.

It was an easy thing to do on the couch last night because she asked me to hold her, but here in her room is another thing entirely.

Thankfully I don't have enough time to fully panic before she settles back against my chest and places her hand over mine where it rests on her stomach.

We lay there in silence for a while, the only sound coming from the ceiling fan. It's oddly peaceful. Eventually she sighs and if possible moves even closer to me.

"Carlisle?" she says quietly.

I hum softly into her hair. I'm discovering it's much easier for me to make an intimate gesture when she's already done half the work for me.

"Will you be my Johnny if I'll be your Gilda?"

"They hated each other, remember?"

"Only a little. It's like Obregon says when he tells Johnny that they must love each other very terribly."

"They really did," I say. "So, does this mean Charles is Ballin?"

She snorts. "You know, it's been my favorite movie since I was a kid. You'd think I would have learned how to spot someone like that from miles away."

"It's not your fault, Esme."

"I know," she whispers. "I can't help but think that everything that's happened so far this semester has led me here for a reason."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean the school is our casino. All the players were in place, and the situation brought me to you. Just like marrying Ballin brought Gilda back to Johnny."

I see the point she's trying to make, and in many respects she's right, but there are two sides to every coin. "I think of it more like running away from his past with Gilda brought Johnny back to her in the end. A full circle."

She laughs softly. "I like your theory better than mine." She yawns, and it makes me smile.

"We should sleep," I say.

She turns her head slightly so our eyes meet. They're so bright. I want to stare at them forever. It's funny that now I think she might let me.

"Thank you, Carlisle," she whispers. "For everything."

And for the third time in one day she presses her lips to mine. I rest my chin on the top of her head with a smile. I have yet to kiss mystery girl properly, but the tiny pecks she's given me so far are perfect. They're more than I ever hoped for.

…

I sleep more soundly than I have in a while. Her bed is a thousand times more comfortable than mine, just like I knew it would be. It smells like a mixture of laundry soap and mystery girl.

When I wake up several hours later I discover that I rolled onto my back at some point, and Esme managed to roll over completely and now has an arm draped over my chest.

Somehow the fact that she moves in her sleep only increases her appeal. I have no idea why since I imagine to most people it would be a highly annoying trait, but not when it comes to her.

I boldly run my fingers though her hair while I watch her sleep. This is the first time I've ever been able to really look at her. Usually I'm so busy tripping over my own thoughts that I can't look at her for more than a few seconds before my nerves take over.

But right now she's sound asleep, and I can study the girl I've fallen hard for.

She has a small mole on the left side of her face, close to her hairline. Her eyebrows have slightly different shapes. It's unnoticeable unless you look closely. It's the most perfect imperfection I can imagine. The bridge of her nose is covered in tiny freckles, and there's a small scar above her right eyebrow.

I remind myself to ask her about it later.

I want to hear the stories behind every scar she's ever had, both physical and the emotional. I want to heal them all.

She stirs in my arms and moans softly. The stirring makes me smile. The moan elicits another response entirely.

Being a man is hard sometimes. Ha. Hard. Edward would be proud of my inner humor.

Her eyes open slowly and she smiles sleepily.

"Hi." Her voice is rough. That only exacerbates the situation her moan caused.

"Hi," I say.

"How long have you been awake?"

"A few minutes."

She rolls over and looks at her phone. "It's one-thirty. I should make us some lunch."

"You like to cook, don't you?" I ask.

She nods. "I do." She sits up and places her hand on my stomach. "I know I've said this several times already but thank you, Carlisle. You're more than I deserve."

Oh, mystery girl.

Her insecurities are so deep it causes me pain. My chest aches just thinking about it. I'm starting to see that we're on more even ground than I thought. Edward was right when he said I had her on a pedestal that no one could reach.

She's only human, just like me.

She'll always be my perfect mystery girl, but for the first time I think maybe there's a real possibility that she really wants me.

I've dreamed of this for what feels like years, and now I think I'm ready to help her see how wonderful she truly is.


	15. Chapter 15

I don't own _Twilight_.

Thank you to my wonderful team, Mackenzie L, kr2009, and texasunshine. They keep my world spinning.

Thanks so much for reading and I hope you all enjoy this chapter!

* * *

><p>By the time I get home it's after five. Honestly I didn't want to come home at all, but I can't exactly move in with her yet. That would just be weird.<p>

As expected, Edward is waiting to hear every word. He's like a teenage girl waiting on pins and needles to hear the latest gossip.

He's standing in the kitchen fixing a sandwich when I walk in. He wordlessly hands me a beer and sits down at the bar beside me.

"Well?"

"You're an idiot," I tell him, taking a sip.

"What the hell did I do?"

"She has feelings for me."

His mouth falls open. I'm a bit surprised he doesn't drop his sandwich, to be honest.

"No way."

"Why is that so hard to believe?" I ask, feeling a little offended.

"I didn't say that. I was just surprised. Tell me what happened."

I tell him the whole story, starting from the moment she called me to our lazy day of skipping class together and everything in between.

By the end of my story his mouth is open even wider, if possible.

"My big brother has finally been kissed," is naturally the first thing he says.

"Not really," I argue.

He shrugs. "It counts. Still… I can't believe that dude cheated on her. Not trying to move in on your territory, bro, but she _is_ hot."

He backtracks when my eyes narrow. "She's all yours, Carlisle. Believe me, I would never mess this up for you. I'm the one who's encouraging the whole thing. I was just pointing out what an idiot that guy is."

I nod. "He really is."

"So she obviously wasn't too broken up about it, huh?"

"I don't know," I say with a shrug. "It's hard to tell because she's so confused. She let herself depend on him too much."

"Well then, I guess it's up to you to show her how a relationship is supposed to be."

I choke and sputter beer all over the place. "Me? What do I know about relationships?"

"Oh, come on, dude, you're doing a good job so far. I have to admit, I never thought this would happen for you, but you're a total natural at it. Just keep doing what you're doing."

"I'm not doing anything," I argue.

"Exactly. The less you do, the more relaxed you are. You got this, bro. You really do. Don't over-think it now."

"I'm not. Now that our feelings are out in the open it's easier."

He nods. "That's how it always works. You know what you need to do now, right?"

I shake my head, bewildered, and wondering what he's up to.

"Kiss her for real."

I'm sure he can sense my escalating panic. "Really you already have," he says. "You just need to take it one step further."

"I promised to give her space," I mumble.

"She's not going to hate you if you kiss her, Carlisle. She's already made the move – she's shown you that she's receptive to it. She wants you to take the next step. Trust me."

I know he's telling the truth, but I wonder if I can really do it. I want to. I want it more than anything. And yes, she has kissed me three times already, but they were so brief and so simple. I wonder if she wants to be kissed like I want to kiss her.

Logically I know she does, but that does nothing to calm my nerves at the thought of actually doing it.

I don't even know how to kiss.

Sure, I've seen it done frequently, but I have no experience of my own. I don't know the logistics of it. What if I mess up? Would she think less of me?

The annoying voice in my head yells at me to shut the hell up and stop beating myself up over something that is probably nothing.

I can't help it. This is going to take some getting used to.

…

The next day I go to class as normal, and even though Esme and I don't have this class together it feels like she's with me.

And that's because she's texting me.

It started when I was getting dressed and hasn't stopped all morning. I haven't stopped smiling for hours.

By the time I'm sitting at the bookstore, she's making plans to visit me at work when she gets off.

I know she had class first thing this morning and then went to work. I'll be here for a few hours after she's done for the day, but she says she wants me to come over after I leave.

Edward gave me the notes we missed from when she and I skipped class, and I made copies for her. We'll go over them together tonight.

This is still so new to me. For the first time I have a study date with mystery girl that isn't really a study date at all. She even alluded to wanting to go out to eat before we go to the apartment.

To me that sounds like a _real _date.

I consider asking Edward, but then I imagine the obvious look on his face and think better of it. I guess I'll ask her instead.

…

She walks in just as the sun is setting, right before the end of my shift.

She's in one of her pretty work outfits, and she looks so beautiful that I automatically look around to make sure no other guys are staring at her.

"Hi," she says, walking up to the counter. She leans over and kisses my cheek. I blush and duck my head. In her apartment it's one thing for her to make such an obvious display, but no one's ever done something like that to me in public before.

Well, no one's ever kissed me, period, except for her... so I guess it doesn't really matter.

"How was your day?" she asks.

"Good," I reply simply.

"Just good?" Her voice is playful. I think she's teasing me.

"Okay, great."

"And why so great?"

Because a beautiful girl was texting me all day."

She puts her hand over her heart and gasps. "I'm jealous. And just how beautiful is this girl?"

I grin at her little game. "Very beautiful. The most beautiful girl I've seen."

"Well, I'm sure she would be very flattered to hear such sweet words from such a wonderful man."

"You're beautiful," I whisper, looking down.

She lifts my head. "Thank you, Carlisle. You're rather beautiful yourself."

"Really?"

She laughs. "Of course."

…

For the rest of my shift, she sits in the corner of the bookstore where there is a small cafe. I watch her out of the corner of my eye the whole time. She's reading a novel she randomly picked up and drinking an iced coffee.

I smile at how easily she's able to relax in any environment. She used to be just like me – shy, unassuming, picked on. But now she's so full of confidence on the outside. Maybe there's hope for me after all.

When my shift ends we walk to my car. I want to drive us if we're going on a date. We can pick hers up later.

She agrees to my plan easily. I think she likes the idea of me driving.

"I like your car," she says as she slides inside.

I blush. I have, as my brother calls it, "the nerdiest car in the world." But if she likes it than I now consider it the coolest car in the world – certainly not the nerdiest.

It's only a few minutes before we arrive at the restaurant she chose. It's a quiet little Italian place I've never been to. I wanted her to choose, and she claims this place is amazing. I have no trouble believing her.

They seat us toward the back, and once the waiter leaves with our drink order I can't contain my curiosity anymore.

"Is this a date?" I blurt out.

She grins and nods. "I would very much like it to be. Is that all right?"

"Yeah," I say, stunned. "I like that too."

She smiles as the waiter comes back with our drinks. I know she's just being friendly, but I don't like the way he's looking at her.

Can't he see we're on a date here? Or does he even care? Probably not. He probably thinks he can woo her away from me. Even just a day ago I would have thought he was right, but not tonight. Not now that I know this is a real date, and she really is making an effort to move on with me.

We converse casually about school and what she did at work today. I love her for making me feel so at ease around her. She's so easy to talk to. I never thought in a million years I would be eating in a restaurant with my mystery girl, but here we are.

What started out as a crazy infatuation with a stunning girl in my class has grown into this – two people trying to have with each other what neither has ever had before.

Yes, she's been in a relationship, but it certainly wasn't a healthy one. He did nothing to help her get past her insecurities. If anything he made them worse.

In so many ways we are on the same level in what we want and need. That douchebag spent years keeping her on his arm as a gorgeous decoration and nothing more. He didn't really love her. Not at all. Loving someone means wanting their happiness above your own – even if it means you aren't what causes that happiness.

And that's when it hits me.

I'm in love with mystery girl.

I realize two nights ago when I dropped everything to run to her apartment I sealed my fate. Even if she didn't want to move on with me, all I want is for her to be happy. No matter what. Even if it kills me.

It occurs to me just how lucky I am that she does have feelings for me. I can hardly believe how fortunate I am in this whole situation.

This kind of luck never comes my way. Ever.

We finish dinner while I'm busy having my epiphany.

"That was delicious," she says. "Thank you for bringing me here."

"You're welcome, Esme. I loved it too."

…

We drive back to campus so she can pick up her car, and it seems like no time at all before we arrive at her apartment.

I know her gate code now. Those four numbers are like gold to me. She trusts me with them.

We sit down beside each other on her couch, and I hand her the missed class notes I got from Edward.

"Thank you for doing this for me," she says. "You really didn't have to make copies for me."

I shake my head. "I wanted to. I would never get notes for me and not give them to you, too."

She puts the papers on the coffee table and turns to face me, taking my hand.

"We can study in a minute, but first I just want to make sure you know how much I appreciate everything you've done for me. You're so wonderful, Carlisle. I don't know what I would do without you at this point."

She's looking up at me questioningly. This is the part in every movie where the girl is silently begging the boy to kiss her.

So I do exactly that.

I don't know where my confidence comes from, but I lean forward and place my palm against her cheek, bringing her face to mine.

Our lips touch softly at first, like the kisses she's given me, but I want more than that right now. I tilt my head to the side, and she gets the hint to show me what to do.

Her mouth opens slightly, and this is suddenly so much better than I imagined. She tastes wonderful. My heart is pounding in my ears, and my head feels fuzzy, but I don't care.

She moves closer and wraps her arms around my neck as we kiss, enveloping me in her scent.

I feel dizzy, but I never want to stop. I could kiss her forever. I know it has to be obvious I've never done this before, but she isn't backing away. She's gentle in her motions, and it puts me at ease.

I want to deepen the kiss. How do I do that? I don't know, so I guess. I open my mouth a little wider, and it's like she knows exactly what I'm thinking. My arms wrap around her waist instinctively, and she moans quietly into my mouth.

The sound stops me cold.

She's smiling when our lips separate. She doesn't move out of my arms, but instead rests her forehead against mine.

"That was amazing," she says.

"Really?"

She nods. "Please don't doubt yourself. Not now. Not when I really want you to kiss me like that again."

Without a second thought our lips meet again.

I could do this forever. Literally. Having her in my arms, kissing her, is the most incredible thing I've ever done.


	16. Chapter 16

I don't own _Twilight_.

Thank you to Mackenzie L for her beta skills, and to kr2009 and texasunshine for pre-reading.

This chapter is dedicated to the beautiful anhanninen. Happy birthday, Ashley. I hope you love it as much as ILY.

* * *

><p>It's official. I love kissing. Specifically I love kissing mystery girl. I don't think any other kisses could compare. I realize I've never received any others, but that doesn't matter.<p>

The second time we part she pulls her legs up beneath her and rests her head against my chest.

"I guess we should study now, shouldn't we?"

I don't want to study anymore than it sounds like she does, but we missed a lot yesterday, and we really do need to catch up.

"Yeah. Edward said it was all lecture, so if we go over the notes a few times we should be okay tomorrow."

She nods and moves only far enough to grab the papers from the table before settling back into my arms.

This is how studying should always be. She's so warm and fits in my arms so well.

We go over the notes several times and even quiz each other over the material. I'm so proud of the progress she's made since realizing that Charles was holding her back.

She's smarter then she believes herself to be, and I'm glad I get to show her just how much she knows.

Once we finish studying, she turns to me nervously.

"Spend the night?" she asks.

I nod my assent easily this time.

…

I lie in bed waiting while she gets ready to sleep. Why does it take girls so long to prepare for sleep? I don't get it. It's just sleep. No one will see her. Well… I will, but I think she's always beautiful.

When she enters the room it doesn't look like she's done anything. She's in shorts and a shirt, just like she was in my dream.

Unlike in my dream, she's not trying to seduce me.

Too bad.

"Hi," she says when she slips into the bed next to me.

She automatically moves into my arms like it's the only place she wants to be. Her fingertips lightly touch my eyelid.

"You look so different without your glasses."

"Is that bad?"

"No. Not at all. I like you either way. With or without them. I'm just not used to seeing you like this. How well can you see without them?"

"Not very," I say. "Things that are far away are blurry and distorted. I can see you, though, right now."

She laughs softly. "I'm right in front of you."

"I know."

She leans in to kiss me. I freeze. I'm still not used to this at all. She seems so comfortable kissing me. She does it so well, but I'm a beginner, and she's the girl I've wanted for months.

She's my perfect mystery girl.

And she's kissing me.

Again.

Like she wants to do nothing else.

She tastes like mint. I think it's her toothpaste. Whatever it is I really hope she never stops kissing me. Her mouth is warm, and the way she wraps her arms around my waist makes me feel so _wanted._

"I like kissing you," she says when we break apart.

Huh?

"Why?" I ask. "I'm not very good at it."

She looks annoyed. "Didn't I tell you to stop thinking like that?"

"But-"

"Shh. Carlisle, why do you think you're here in my bed right now? You're here because I want you to be here. I hate that you keep questioning that."

"I'm not questioning it," I defend.

"Yes, you are. Even when you don't say anything, I can tell. You're afraid this isn't real, aren't you?"

I try to shake my head, but she stops me. She sees right through me.

"A little," I admit.

She places her palm on my cheek and smiles. "I know. You really have no experience, do you? With women?"

"None," I whisper feeling like an idiot. I know she doesn't mean anything by it, but her question further illustrates our differences. I'm trying to forget those.

"I understand why that bothers you, Carlisle. Really, I do. But I don't want you to think you're inadequate because of it. I wish you could see yourself the way I see you."

"How do you see me?"

"When I look at you I see the person who showed me everything I had been doing wrong for so long. You didn't even try, Carlisle. You just treated me like your equal, and it opened my eyes to all the shit Charles had put me through without me even realizing it."

An equal? Did she really think that?

"But you're better than me," I insist. "We can't be called equals."

She shakes her head. "No, Carlisle. You're the one who is better than me. And I know you're about to argue that point, but please don't. You asked me how I see you, and I told you. That's all there is to it. You've got to start believing in who you really are and not the way you see yourself."

I take a deep breath but don't argue.

This time when she kisses me I don't clam up. She doesn't let me. I don't know how she does it, but she makes me feel so much more confident after our talk.

By some miracle we seem to have moved so that she's practically underneath me, and I'm the one controlling the kiss. The fact she can make me do these things without thinking about them only makes me love her more.

"Carlisle," she whispers. "Tell me what you need from me. Please?"

I bury my face in her neck, embarrassed. I don't think I can answer her.

Thankfully it doesn't seem like she needs me to.

Without a word she rolls me over and drapes herself across me. She's so light, her skin is so smooth, and if heaven smells like anything I guarantee it smells like mystery girl.

She lowers her lips to mine, and they're always so soft and amazing. I really could kiss her forever. She places small, light kisses along my jaw and when she reaches my neck I can't stop myself from pulling her closer.

Her leg is over my waist now, and with the way she keeps brushing against me I worry I won't last much longer.

I'm sure she knows the effect she's having on me, but the way she moves is so sure. She's torturing me, but not on purpose. She just wants to make me feel good.

It's definitely working.

I nervously rub her back while she kisses across my shoulder.

"That feels good," she whispers against my skin.

And then she does something that completely shocks me. She reaches around and takes my hand, moving it under her shirt. My eyes widen, but she doesn't let me freeze up.

"Please," she whispers. "Don't stop now."

Her voice is pleading. She wants me to touch her. Her skin, more to the point. I can't freak out now.

I slowly continue rubbing her back. She picks her head up from my shoulder and smiles down at me.

"Are you nervous?"

I nod.

"I am too," she says.

I'm not sure I can believe that. After all, she's done this before. I haven't.

"Why… Why would you be nervous?" I ask.

She places her hand on my shoulder and kisses the tip of my nose.

"Because I've never been with someone who cared about the real me, so in a way it's all very new for me too."

"I care about you."

She nods and smiles. "I know you do. Will you kiss me again?"

"I like kissing you," I tell her.

She laughs quietly. "I like kissing you too."

I lift my head to hers and our lips meet easily. I'm surprised at how easy it's becoming the more we do this. I don't feel nearly as faint as I have in the past.

She rolls us so that we're on our sides facing each other. She pulls my arm over her waist underneath her shirt like before. This time instead of second guessing myself, I take a chance and move my hand up the bare skin of her back.

It isn't long after that when she manages to pull her shirt over her head without me even realizing it.

Once my brain catches up with my eyes they're about to fall out of my head. I feel like a cartoon character whose eyes jut out at least a foot when they see something shocking.

She's in a bra. Just a bra. Nothing else. On top, that is. She still has her shorts on.

It's black. There's nothing else. No lace, no design or anything. The simplicity is perfect for her. She doesn't need anything special to be beautiful.

She's watching me watch her with her bottom lip between her teeth. She takes my hand and kisses it before placing it on her chest over her heart.

I can feel it beating.

I look at her questioningly, but all she does is nod.

"Touch me," she whispers.

I want to tell her I am touching her, but then I realize exactly what she wants and I very much fear for my ability to breath, much less speak.

I think she knows I can't do it alone so she helps me. She places her hand over mine and squeezes gently.

I always knew the first time I touched a girl's breast would be good, but I didn't think it would be this good.

And that's with a bra on. How awesome will it be when that comes off? I cannot wait to find out. I want to right now. Would she let me? She asked me to touch her, didn't she? I assume she means for me to take her bra off at some point.

She shrugs her shoulder so that the strap falls down. Even I can see how big a hint that was. I don't need any more encouragement so I reach behind her to fumble with the clasp.

She leans into my chest to give me the access I need, but I guess the inventor of the bra didn't have me in mind when he made these things. Why would it be this complicated?

She giggles. "Here," she says, sitting up. She rolls me onto my back and straddles my waist. I groan automatically when she rubs against me. I feel like I'm going to burst. Is that possible? I sincerely hope not.

She reaches behind herself and deftly unclasps her bra.

I swear I hear a choir of angels when it falls to the bed.

Her breasts are _perfect._ As soon as we're finished here I'm going to go to the nearest park and build a monument to them.

I reach out and run my finger over the top of one. She smiles encouragingly so I continue my path down to her nipple. I've seen this done in porn before but never did I think I would get the opportunity.

She subtly shifts forward so my finger brushes her nipple. I'm a little amused at her efforts to help me, but I can't help being grateful for them. Without her guidance I would be at a total loss.

I trace my finger around her nipple before gently rolling it. Her eyes close and she sighs. I think that's a good reaction, right?

I can feel the tightening in my lower abdomen. I'm mentally pleading with my body to slow down. I have to hold out for mystery girl. This is too amazing to end now.

"Are you okay?" she asks.

It's then that I realize my eyes are squeezed shut, as if I thought that would help slow this down. Yeah right.

I nod, but swallow thickly. I don't think she believes me.

When her eyes shift downward I know she knows what's wrong. She quickly swings herself off me, and I want to tell her not to go, but before I can utter the words she's sitting beside me, palming me through my boxers.

I gasp, and groan, and probably make a thousand other noises, but I don't care. All I care about is the way the heat of her hand feels against me. She's smiling tenderly at me, and the softness in her eyes tells me not to protest.

She wants to do this for me.

Like an expert she pulls me free of my boxers. No one's ever seen it before. I think I should feel embarrassed, but I can't. No feeling can reach my brain right now except the incredible way her hand feels around me.

It's all too much.

Her hand.

Her smile.

This entire night.

It's too much…

…

And just like that she's stroking more slowly, bringing me down from an orgasm more powerful than I ever thought possible.

I don't even want to think about how messy her sheets probably are right now, or the fact that I didn't get the chance to make her feel as good as she just made me feel.

She scoots toward me and kisses me gently. "You wanna take a quick shower while I throw the sheets in the washer?"

I want to cry, but not because I'm embarrassed. I want to cry because she's not. I love her for that.

I nod and make my way to the bathroom. I'm still shaking from how good her actions felt. I want more. Right now.

After my shower I find her lying in bed already, on fresh sheets she must have had in storage. She smiles brightly and pats the spot beside her. I pull her into my arms like it's nothing, and it's no time at all before we're both asleep.

* * *

><p>Awwww...<p> 


	17. Chapter 17

I don't own _Twilight_, as awesome as that would be.

Hi, you guys. Thanks so much for sticking with me while I didn't update for a couple weeks. On top of school my personal life has been slowly falling apart for a while, and everything just came to a head this week. I won't bore you with my apologies. Just know that I thank you all for being patient.

I want to say a special thank you to mycrookedsmile for reccing Nerdlisle on the PPSS blog. That was a huge shock and so wonderful. There's nothing like opening Tweetdeck to see those kind of mentions. Thank you, thank you, thank you!

I should be back on track with this story and might even have another chapter up tomorrow!

* * *

><p>"Carlisle."<p>

"Hmm?"

"We need to get up. We'll be late for school."

But I don't want to get up. I had this amazing dream last night that I was at mystery girl's apartment, and we made out, and I touched her boob, and she touched me.

It was spectacular.

I open my eyes slowly and am more than a little shocked to see mystery girl above me with her hand on my chest, shaking it gently.

It wasn't a dream. It was real. All of that really happened.

Naturally the first thing I blurt out is "are you real?"

She laughs. "Of course I am." Then she kisses me and climbs out of the bed. "Come on," she says. "We need to go to class."

"Can't we skip?"

"No, sir. We've skipped once already. No more skipping allowed."

But why not? I'd much rather stay in bed with her all day than go to school and learn about structural loads.

By the time I have enough energy to even get out of bed, Esme is in the kitchen making pancakes.

Does this girl ever eat anything you make in a microwave?

"I guess you don't need a shower since you had one last night," she says. "I'll take a quick one after we eat and then we need to get on campus."

We sit down for breakfast, and it's a little like being a kid again. I guess she likes to take care of people. I like that about her. She's very nurturing. But I want to take care of her too. She deserves to be pampered like a princess. I wonder if she would even let me, though. She's so independent.

…

Once we arrive at school my nerves kick in full force. This is the first time we've been to this class since her and douchebag broke up.

How the hell do we handle this? Do _we_ even handle it, or does she handle it? Are we a couple? I have no idea.

I'm fully panicking by the time we meet Edward in the hall, and we all walk in together.

He's not here yet.

That doesn't honestly surprise me. He never shows up till right before class begins.

But what does Esme want to do? Everyone always sits in the same spots, but they aren't technically assigned. Will she still sit by him even though they broke up?

With how busy I am trying not to have an anxiety attack I don't notice that Edward is quietly saying something to Esme until I see her glance behind us and nod.

She takes my hand and silently leads me to the back of the lecture hall where's there's a row of seats no one ever sits in.

All three of us sit together in the back, and I could kiss her right now for having this idea.

Except I'm pretty sure the idea was Edward's.

I will _not_ be kissing him.

When Charles walks in he sees us immediately. He doesn't act surprised, though. More like he was expecting it. I guess when you cheat on your girl you shouldn't be shocked when she no longer wants to sit next to you in class.

He sits in his usual spot like nothing's changed. Esme's trying as hard as she can not to start laughing beside me. She's literally shaking with laughter. I'm glad she can find humor in the situation. Even if I can't. Okay, maybe it is a little funny. I'm just glad she isn't breaking down with sadness the way she would have a few days ago.

I'm so proud of how far she's come in the last week. And how far I've come. I know I'm not that same shy kid who almost couldn't breathe when a goddess sat in front of him on the first day of class.

Edward elbows her in the rib to get her to stop. She squeaks instead and slaps him on the arm.

"Miss Platt, is everything okay back there?"

She looks up like a deer in the headlights. "Yes, sir," she tells our professor. "Everything's fine."

This time when Charles turns around he looks murderous. And then Esme does something that lets me know for sure I'm going to die today.

She flips him off.

I slide down in my seat, trying to disappear, but also trying not to smile.

She's so blunt. I love that about her. She's not afraid of showing people what she thinks about them. I learned that the wonderful way last night.

…

I relax after class when the three of us have lunch outside in the courtyard. I haven't told Edward about last night yet, but the sideways smirks I keep getting make me think he knows anyway.

Esme holds my hand under the table, and it makes me want to laugh. It feels so innocent. I like that I know another side of her now. A side that is not so innocent.

"Esme, may I speak with you for a moment?"

She freezes beside me, and I close my eyes as Edward's jaw drops.

Charles.

He wants to talk to her.

What does he want?

He threw away his right to say anything to her. There's nothing he can say now that would lessen the hurt of what he did to her.

When I open my eyes she's looking at me.

She wants to know if it's okay with me.

I squeeze her hand and nod.

They walk to the table on the other side of the courtyard and sit down.

She's very stiff. She doesn't trust him. She's not about to let her guard down.

I know I have nothing to worry about.

That doesn't stop me from watching them intently.

She's guarding herself while he speaks, but I can tell his guard is down. He's all but pleading with her.

I want to laugh. I guess he didn't realize you get the treatment you give.

It isn't until she goes to walk away and he grabs her arm that I intervene.

Seeing him touch her like that sets me off. Before I know what I'm even going to do I'm walking toward them and throwing his hand off her arm.

"What do you think you're doing, you freak?"

He's angry. Not as angry as I am, though. I feel the strong urge to stand in front of Esme and protect her from this asshole, but I know better. Unlike Charles I actually _know_ Esme. She doesn't need protection. He's the one who needs protecting from her.

"Didn't anyone ever teach you how to treat a lady?" I hear myself ask.

I have no idea where this brave side of me came from, but I'm not questioning it now.

"What do you know about it?" he sneers.

"You know what, Charles," Esme says. "Fuck you. I agreed to hear you out, but nothing has changed. You sealed our fate the day you chose to cheat on me. And you know what? I'm glad you did it. I really am. Because I found someone who actually cares about me. You'll never even be half the man Carlisle is. So again, fuck you."

And with that she grabs my hand and walks back to where Edward is sitting, quite obviously enjoying the show. I turn back once to see Charles standing there completely thunderstruck. He can't believe she said that to him.

I laugh as we sit down and everything is perfect again the moment Edward holds his hand up to Esme, silently asking for a high-five.


	18. Chapter 18

I don't own _Twilight_.

Thank you, Mackenzie and Kelley.

* * *

><p>That night I go back to my apartment long enough to grab a change of clothes and have a quick beer with Edward.<p>

The minute we sit down he opens his mouth and asks the question I know he's been dying to ask for the last twenty-four hours.

"So… Gotten laid yet?"

Even though I'm expecting it I still laugh.

"Almost."

"How can you almost get laid?" he asks like the concept is completely foreign to him. It might be actually. Edward is very… direct. It's all or nothing with him.

"I'm not giving you details," I tell him.

He throws his hands up in defeat. "Okay, okay. I'm not asking for them. Are you going back over there tonight?"

I nod. "Yeah. She wants me to spend the night again."

"Well, take some condoms with you."

I shake my head in amusement as I walk down the hall toward my bedroom. I take his words to heart, though and grab a few from the bathroom cabinet, putting them in my wallet. You never know. Maybe I'll need them. At least I hope I'll need them.

…

When I get to Esme's place she opens the door and automatically kisses me. It's still taking some getting used to, but I think I'm getting better about resisting the urge to faint.

She's become such a central part of my life that I can't really remember what it was like to worship her from afar. Those days seem long gone.

I really cannot believe how lucky I am.

We sit down to eat the takeout pizza that was my idea. She cooks too much. Cooking is good, but I don't want her to worry about anything tonight. She just wants to sit around, watching old movies and eating pizza.

She puts on _To Have and Have Not_, and sits down beside me.

"So you love Bogie and Bacall too, huh?"

She nods. "I don't think it's possible not to adore them. Or the movie that started it all."

We sit comfortably, with her curled up in my side, while we eat.

I love doing this. I think if we went out to restaurants and places right now I'd be too terrified to really open up to her. I realize we're doing things a bit backwards, but I'm glad she isn't pushing for real dates.

I can't imagine how scared I would still be to be around her.

"Did you enjoy yourself last night?" she asks out of nowhere.

Excuse me? I am a man, correct? How could I not have enjoyed myself?

I don't say any of those things out loud, though. I guess I'm not that socially awkward.

"Of course," I tell her. "Did you?"

This is the answer I'm dreading. We haven't talked about last night at all. I'm terrified that she didn't get to enjoy herself because I lost control too soon.

She nods and rests her head on my shoulder. "Very much."

"Really?" I can't help but ask.

She picks her head up and looks at me curiously. "Did you think I didn't?"

I shrug. "I don't know. I guess I thought since things ended so quickly…" I trail off, not knowing how to continue.

"Oh, Carlisle," she says sadly, wrapping her arms around my waist and kissing my cheek. "I really hoped you wouldn't think that."

"Think what?"

"That I wasn't happy. Carlisle, last night was the first time in a long time that I have been happy in a sexual situation."

I automatically cringe a little. I hate thinking about her being with anyone else. I know that it's reality, but I still don't like to see it played out in my overly active imagination.

Then what she actually said hits me, and all I want to do is hold her. Which is what I am doing so I guess that worked out well.

I don't think I understand how it's possible that such a perfect girl could be displeased by sex.

Douchebag must be really bad in bed.

That makes me grin.

Of course, being so wholly inexperienced I'm probably no better.

When I fail to respond to her statement she takes the opportunity to put our plates on the coffee table and moves closer into my arms.

She kisses me gently, threading her hands through my hair to anchor herself to me.

"I can't decide whether to finish the movie or go to bed now," she says against my lips with a soft laugh.

I'm tempted to vote for go to bed, but I can tell she loves this movie, and I haven't seen it in years so I say we should finish it. That doesn't mean we can't still be close, though.

I lay down on the couch and Esme settles on top of me with her head pillowed on my chest. She pulls the throw blanket over from the end of the couch and drapes it over us.

I reach behind me to turn off the lamp so that the only light in the room besides the TV comes from the kitchen.

The whole atmosphere is strangely romantic.

"Carlisle?"

"Yes, beautiful?"

She giggles into my shirt. It makes me smile.

"You think I'm beautiful?"

"I think you're the most beautiful woman in the world."

She picks up her head and kisses me softly, stroking her fingers through my hair. It's hard for me not to notice that in moments like these – when I compliment her – she's so very vulnerable.

I don't think she believes the things I tell her. Even for all her outward confidence, she sees herself as less than she is.

I want to fix that, but I don't know how. In all actuality I know that I can't. I know she has to do that for herself.

"Let's go to bed," she whispers.

And that's when a very sad realization crashes through me. Her insecurities are so deep she only feels confident during sex.

My hand clenches at my side as I try to restrain my anger at Charles for doing this to her. How could she not react the way she does? She knew she was just the bastard's arm candy. When someone only shows you love in the bedroom you start to think that's the only thing loveable about you.

I wrap my arms around her and hold her to me, kissing the top of her head.

I don't know what to do. I won't let her believe that I see her the way she's been trained to see herself. She deserves so much better than that.

As much as I want to I know I can't sleep with her under these circumstances. It doesn't even matter right now that I've never even had sex with anyone besides myself. I'm not afraid because of that. I'm afraid of letting Esme think of me as just another man using her for only one thing.

She needs to see that I love her for her, and that I'm just as happy to sleep next to her all night long without doing anything at all.

I need her to see that she doesn't have to take her clothes off to be loveable.

I make up my mind to take her to bed like she wants, but to show her that sex does not equal love – that I love her with no conditions.

I scoop her up into my arms while she quickly grabs the remote to turn off the TV. She squeals when I lift her into the air and carry her down the hall. Even though I'm feeling rather serious right now I can't help but smile.

She's still my perfect mystery girl. Nothing will ever change that.

* * *

><p>Yeah... Poor Esme. =(<p> 


	19. Chapter 19

I don't own_ Twilight_.

Thank you Mackenzie, Lauren, and Kelley. I probably wouldn't be posting this chapter without your encouragement. And happy birthday, Kelley. Even though I'm sorry I couldn't give you something happier.

On that note I'm going to go hide under my kitchen table now.

* * *

><p>I knew, of course, that the minute I set her down on the bed she would start trying to undress me.<p>

It doesn't surprise me at all that she gets my shirt of before we even enter the bedroom.

"Esme, stop," I manage to say.

To her credit she does as I ask. But instead of feeling relieved, I just feel sad. She sits on the edge of the bed with a pout on her face. She doesn't understand why I stopped her.

And that right there is exactly why I did it.

I sit on the bed next to her and rub my hands over my face, frustrated. She massages my shoulder, and it's the sweetest gesture I can imagine, but at the moment all I can think of are what her intentions are.

I'm questioning everything now, and I don't like it. This shouldn't be happening. I shouldn't be wondering these things.

"What's wrong?" she asks, her lips so close to my ear I want to cry.

She thinks I'm nervous, and she's trying to seduce me.

Under normal circumstances I would be a grab bag of nerves. I would be terrified about my lack of experience, and I would probably be making some joke about feeling faint.

Not right now, though.

It feels almost like we're at an impasse. Gandalf is telling me I can't pass even though I desperately want to. We need to figure this out first. Together. She needs to accept that what's she's been made to believe about herself simply isn't true.

How do you un-train that kind of conditioning, though?

I'm not stupid enough to believe I can, and I'm terrified that if I tell her my concerns she'll lash out.

I turn to look at her, and her lip is faintly trembling. She thinks I'm turning her down. I can feel it.

I have to kiss her. It's the only way she won't panic more than she already is.

When our lips separate I cup her cheek and lean my forehead against hers.

"What's wrong?" she asks again.

I don't even know how to express my worry, so naturally I say the first thing that pops into my head.

"Esme, why don't you believe me when I tell you how beautiful you are?"

Just as I expected she becomes defensive. It's subtle, but her guard goes up the minute she wraps her arms around her chest.

"I don't know."

I guess hoping for a real answer was asking too much.

Before I can formulate another question, she continues.

"If you're thinking I can't take a compliment, you're right. I can't."

And now we're getting somewhere. I hate the hard tone of her voice, though. She's trying to shut me out. I've pissed her off, and now she's fully defending herself against me.

It isn't supposed to be like this. We were supposed to be cuddling on the couch, not arguing in her bedroom. I don't even know what to say. Confronting her was a bad idea.

"Esme, I…" There's nothing. Nothing I say is going to get through to her. The defeat is overwhelming.

Her eyes soften when I fail to come up with anything to say. She kneels in front of me and takes my hands.

"Why do you care so much about me?"

Why do I care so much? Did she really ask me that? Can she not see how important she is to me? I know that answer right away.

No, she can't.

There's only one thing I can say right now, and it's probably the stupidest decision I've ever made, but I can't stop the words from spilling out.

"I love you."

They hang there in the air between us, and it feels so stuffy in her room, all of a sudden I feel on the verge of collapsing.

She blinks several times as she absorbs the bomb I just dropped on her. I hold my breath, waiting for what she'll do next.

This can go one of two ways at this point.

Negative or really negative.

She knows that she doesn't really know what love is. We're on even ground in that regard. I knew it was too soon to say it, but she doesn't think I should care about her. She doesn't believe herself worthy of my love. She needs to know she has it, but I know the way I put it out there isn't conducive to anything right now.

In her mind Esme equates love with sex so fully that she can't see beyond that, and we're right back where we started.

And in the category of really negative, my pronouncement could scare her off completely.

"Say something," I whisper, unable to take the silence any longer.

"I don't know what to say," she says. Her voice is hoarse, like she's trying not to cry.

Great. I made her cry. This has just been the best day ever.

I start backtracking immediately.

"I'm sorry, Esme. I shouldn't have said that. I knew it was a stupid thing to say, but I just needed you to see how special you are inside, and that I think you're so beautiful. But I don't just love you for your looks, even though I certainly love them. I think you're the most wonderful girl I've met, and sometimes I can't believe you even speak to me, much less that you want me in your life. But at the same time I can't help but notice how you-"

"Carlisle," she says with a laugh. "Just stop."

She moves to sit beside me again, the atmosphere lightens considerably by her laugh.

"Let's start at the beginning. Explain to me calmly and slowly why you asked me to stop earlier."

"I have to ask you a question that might make you angry in order to explain that."

"Then ask away."

"Did Charles ever tell you he loved you or that you were beautiful when you guys weren't… you know…" I gesture to her like that's going to help her understand what I don't want to say.

She thinks for a moment before responding. "Maybe a few times. Charles isn't an affectionate person, though. That's just not in his nature."

Realization dawns on her face and suddenly she smiles. Really smiles.

"I see what's going on here," she says. "You think because he didn't show me much affection that I don't know how to handle it."

Well, I wouldn't have put it quite like that, but she's got the gist of my concern.

"Oh, Carlisle." She runs her fingers lovingly through my hair, and it helps calm me down. "You're too good to me."

"See!" I jump off the bed before I can stop myself. "That right there is exactly what I'm talking about! You're constantly telling me you're unworthy of me. Esme, I know you know what it's like to grow up the way I did. Why can't you see that I feel unworthy of you? But right now, even that is entirely beside the point."

"What is the point, Carlisle?" Her voice is hard again. I don't like it.

I stand there in front of her, completely still. I feel totally deflated. I can't even remember what I was mad about at this point.

When I don't respond, she sighs and lies down. "I take it we aren't having sex tonight?"

Oh my God.

And just like that it's all confirmed. Every suspicion, every guess at her motives, everything.

"You can still spend the night," she says.

What good would that do at this point?

"I want you to spend the night," she clarifies as she sits up. "Whatever concerns you have, Carlisle, I want to talk through them. Really, I do. But I hate you being angry or upset with me. I promise I won't lose my cool again. It was wrong of me to bite your head off over something that's clearly bothering you. I guess I just don't understand what started all this. One minute we were all over each other and the next you went completely icy on me. Forgive me if I'm a little confused."

Okay, I have to give her that one. My mood did change rather suddenly.

Now it's my turn to sigh as I take her hand and lead her back to the living room. It's clear we aren't going to get any discussion accomplished in the bedroom.

I don't know where this will lead, but the one thing I do know is these problems need to be dealt with. Tonight.

* * *

><p>Have faith. There is a method to my angst.<p> 


	20. Chapter 20

I don't own _Twilight._

Thank you to Mackenzie L for editing, texasunshine for pre-reading, and anhanninen for writing with me last night.

Thank you all so much for reading!

* * *

><p>The first time I ever said the word 'sex' out loud was when Edward and I first stole a copy of <em>Playboy<em> from our dad. I was twelve years old.

I stumbled through the word and couldn't end up saying it. Edward laughed at me.

I guess my point is that it hasn't gotten any easier to discuss.

Esme goes to the kitchen and makes us two cups of tea while I sit on the couch and try to calm my nerves. Now that I've settled down and am no longer as angry as I was I can commence being a nervous wreck.

I don't even know how to talk to her about this. It occurs to me it would have been easier to have never brought it up, but at least this way everything will be out in the open.

That's a good thing, right?

And oh my God, what was I thinking telling her I love her?

I still have no idea how that happened.

I really have no idea how to do this whole relationship thing. And now I'm getting way ahead of myself. I don't think we're in a relationship yet. But she wants to have sex and I stupidly told her I love her. Those things happen in relationships, right? I think we're doing everything backwards.

When she sits beside me and hands me a mug, Esme looks every bit as nervous as I feel. Good, we're on the same page.

"Carlisle," she begins. "I want to tell you again how sorry I am. I think we both hurt each other, and I hate that. But I'm glad you want to talk to me about what's bothering you. Whatever it is, I want to hear it."

"I don't think you do," I whisper, staring at the mug I'm holding in my lap. Maybe if I'm lucky the couch will swallow me whole and save us from needing to have this conversation.

"I've done some thinking," she says, "about the things you said before, and I admit you're right. And I really hate admitting it, but I think we both had each other on pedestals that we've just been knocked off of."

I can't help but laugh as I imagine us pushing each other off large stone columns.

She smiles at my laughter and rubs my arm affectionately.

"You agree?"

I nod. It's true. I can't imagine why she would think so highly of a geek like me, but she does, and if she's willing to take me off that pedestal, then I'm willing to take her down as well.

She isn't perfect.

I realize that now.

I also realize that this is okay.

She doesn't need to be perfect.

I don't honestly want her to be. I imagine that she would then terrify me even more than she already does. I might develop a heart condition if I were constantly losing my ability to breathe around her.

As it stands right now, I'm glad that phase seems to be over. Maybe realizing she's only human did more good than I thought.

"What about the other stuff I said? About… you know… sex and stuff."

She looks like she wants to laugh at how nervously I speak, but she knows this stuff is hard for me to talk about unless I'm angry.

And I'm not angry anymore.

I shouldn't have been in the first place.

If I could have just settled down and not lost it, we could have discussed this rationally hours ago.

Or we could have not brought it up at all, even though I know it's important.

She looks down, embarrassed.

"I told you I'm not perfect," she says. "I haven't even been a good person most of the time, much less a perfect one."

"Why do you say that?" I ask. "Of course you're a good person."

She shakes her head.

"No, Carlisle. Everything you said before just proves what I already knew. I'm incredibly selfish."

"I think at this point you have the right to be," I tell her.

She needs some kind of reward for having dated douchebag as long as she did.

She shakes her head again. "I don't want to be that girl anymore. I don't want to let someone use me for what I know I have. I know I'm beautiful, I know I'm sexy, and if I can be perfectly honest I know I'm damn good in bed too. So why did I let myself become so wrapped up in needing his approval for things I know I have?"

"Because it was all he wanted from you. He just took, took, took, and showered you with gifts in return, but, Esme, honestly, how often did the two of you just talk? Just sit and watch a movie? Just go out to eat? Without you having to pay some price for his time?"

She snorts, and it would be funny except that it's not. "Never. The things you and I do together, Carlisle, the way we just hang out, that's all new to me too. I was trying so hard to be different, and now I've just screwed it all up."

I cannot have her so far away right now. Not when she looks like she wants to cry. I reach out and pull her into my arms. Her head automatically falls to my chest, and she's sobbing but I don't think she's crying yet.

I hold her like that for half an hour.

I counted.

If I didn't count, I would have been panicking.

When she finally lifts her head, her eyes are swollen, but she smiles. "He never would have done that," she says. "He would have insisted I tell him what was wrong and then he would tell me to get over it… And then he would insist that whatever was wrong, sex would fix it. I guess after a while I believed him."

I think this is what's called a breakthrough.

We're making progress. It's not perfect, but neither are _we_, and nothing about us has to be.

Whatever happens now, it's up to her. I refuse to stoop to _his_ level.

I'll never pressure her into anything.


	21. Chapter 21

I don't own _Twilight_.

Thank you Mackenzie and Kelley.

I think I really upped the romance in this one. We'll see if you guys agree.

* * *

><p>We sleep in her bed that night, but that's all we do.<p>

And the next night.

Now it's the end of the week, and she wants to go on a date.

And that's the story of how I end up driving us an hour across town to the "good theater" to watch a chick-flick.

She holds my hand through the whole film and at one point even wraps her arm around mine and leans into me. She never tries to do anything I've heard goes on in dark movie theaters. She's just letting me know she's happy there with me.

I love her for that.

"We should get some dinner," she says as we're walking out.

There's an Appleebees next to the theater so I nod and we walk over, still holding hands.

The hostess looks at us curiously before she seats us. I want to roll my eyes. I'm sure she's wondering what such a pretty girl is doing with me. But Esme's holding my hand so I don't worry so much about what she thinks.

"Did you like the movie?" she asks after we order our drinks.

I nod. "Yeah." I think I just lied to her, but I also think if I was honest I would get in trouble. Dating is confusing.

She smiles sweetly, but I've come to recognize it as that smile she gives when she knows something you don't.

"No you didn't," she teases.

I smile and look down, embarrassed. I nod when I look back up. "Okay, not really. I liked being there with you, though. It's nice to do things with you."

"I like doing things with you, too."

I can't believe how far we've come just this week. If anyone had told me so much progress would have been made I would say they needed to lay off whatever they were smoking.

Even Edward was a little startled by the argument we had and the ensuing discussion. He said he never would have thought I would confront her like I did.

I never thought I would either.

She makes me brave, I guess.

I'm brave enough to fight for her.

Our meal comes, and while we eat I look around the restaurant. There are a lot of other couples here. I guess there would be on a Friday night. It's strange to think I used to eat out like this with my parents and Edward, and I would watch pretty girls with their boyfriends, always thinking that would probably never be me.

Right now there isn't a girl in here prettier than MG.

And it's me that she's here with.

I feel like I should pat myself on the back.

"Do you think we should invite Edward to study with us this weekend?" she asks. "I always feel bad that he's in our same class and he never studies with us."

"I'm not sure if he ever studies at all."

She makes a face and throws her straw wrapper at me, making me laugh. I clear my throat nervously before speaking.

"Actually, I was… uh, wondering if you might want to come with me to my parents' house on Sunday. They like to have me and Edward come for breakfast, and I've missed a couple weeks now. My mom keeps asking me about why I never come around anymore."

I know I'm speaking way too fast, but I'm so nervous I can't help it.

"Ah," Esme says. "She knows you're hiding a girl from her."

"I'm not hiding you," I mumble.

"No, but she knows there is a girl. Trust me. She's a mom. They have radar."

I laugh. I know she's right. Even Edward told me it was time to bring her to meet our parents. I think he just wants someone else there so he doesn't have to clean up breakfast by himself.

I'm not allowed in their kitchen anymore.

There was an incident involving foil and a microwave. It didn't end well.

"Anyway," she continues. "I would love to come meet your parents. As long as they aren't the Fockers. Or the Griswolds. Actually that might be funny."

If she's trying to make me laugh to put me at ease, it works.

We finish our meal and walk back across the theater parking lot to my car. I like driving around with her. It feels special. She's the only person who's ever really in my car.

It frustrates Edward. He won't ride with me because my car is too quiet. His words, not mine.

It's basically implied now that I spend the night. One of these nights I want us to sleep at my apartment even though it embarrasses me. Hers is so neat and organized and clean.

I try to vacuum and Edward acts like a scared dog.

That never bodes well for cleanliness.

I know the place isn't really dirty. It's just that we both have a habit of leaving things lying around. It's messy.

Esme puts everything away when she's done with it. I wish she could train Edward and me to be like that.

When we get back to the apartment she turns the ihome on instead of the TV. I've spent enough time here to know she doesn't feel right unless her place is clean, and since there's a few dishes in the sink it doesn't surprise me when she goes to wash them right away.

I sit on the couch and lean my head back, closing my eyes. In no time at all I feel Esme's fingers lifting my hand. I open my eyes to see her standing over me, smiling softly.

She gently tugs on my hand and I stand up, kissing her easily.

"Dance with me?" she whispers.

I smile. "Are you sure about that? I might trip." I act like I'm teasing but it's a valid concern. I've never danced in my life.

"Oh, c'mon, it's not hard. Just hold me. I'll do the rest."

That I can do. I love holding her.

I wrap my arms around her waist and pull her against me as her arms encircle my neck. She sways us gently and even turns us a few times. I guess she's right. This isn't hard. And she's so close. I can smell her shampoo and feel how warm she is. We've been closer than this before, but this is different somehow. It's not sexual. It's just closeness.

The low light in the room and the music help with that, too.

"Want to try something else?" she asks after a few minutes.

"Umm…"

"It'll be fine, Carlisle. I want to try something."

She takes one of my hands and places it on her waist above her hip. She takes my other hand in hers and extends it. Without warning she swings us around again and even steps to the left.

Of course I trip.

"Whoa!"

She laughs. "Okay, I shouldn't have surprised you like that. It was fun, though."

Well, if she's having fun then I'm having fun.

"Something more gentle this time," she says. She takes the hand that's on her hip and holds both of them at our sides.

"Just step back and forth on your left foot," she says, moving forward to show me what she means. That doesn't sound too hard.

And before I know it, we're actually dancing. It's just a simple step, but I can't believe how proud I feel that I haven't fallen yet.

The way she's smiling up at me is incredible. She looks so happy.

I have to kiss her. Her lips move easily against mine as we continue to sway back and forth.

"This is nice," she whispers against my lips.

I nod and rest my forehead against hers.

"I'm glad you're having fun."

"I always have fun with you."

"I know, sweetheart."

She ducks her head against my chest, but I still see her yawn.

"Are you tired?"

She nods. "I think it's bedtime."

She hesitates for a moment, like she's undecided about something. "Carlisle?" she says, looking up.

I know what she's thinking. It's been hanging in the air between us since the moment she asked me to dance with her.

And for the first time ever, I think we're really ready.

I kiss her again and silently lead her to the bedroom.

"I understand if you think we aren't ready," she says when I lie down on the bed.

"We are ready," I tell her. "I'm just not sure I am, but I really want to be."

She sits down beside me and rubs my chest affectionately.

"You're ready."

"I don't want to disappoint you," I say.

"You can't, Carlisle. Really you can't."

"Is it normal to talk about it like this first?" I ask, having never witnessed such a scene in any porno.

She giggles. "I don't know what normal is, remember?"

She moves on top of me then and kisses me gently. "Just try not to worry about anything," she tells me. "I really want you to enjoy this."

I know I will. That's one thing there's never been any question about. As long as I have Esme, I know I'll enjoy everything.

* * *

><p>Bwahahaha. Evil cliffhanger is evil.<p> 


	22. Chapter 22

I don't own _Twilight_.

Thank you to Mackenzie, Lauren, and Kelley for the work they did on this.

Y'all know this is just one big sex scene so I'll let you get right to it and save my lame apologies for another day.

* * *

><p>"You have protection?"<p>

I nod and swallow thickly.

"Wallet," I manage to choke out.

She smiles deviously. "Mister innocent has been planning, I see."

"Just wanted… to be ready."

She nods. "Thank you for that."

She's still lying on top of me, and her lips trail to my neck where she kisses a path along the collar of my shirt.

"This has to go," she says, sitting up. She pulls at the end of my shirt and I take the hint and sit up enough to let her slip it off me.

And just like last time she straddles my waist again. Although this time it's different. I'm scared to death for sure, but at least I'm prepared by the fact that I've already seen her boobs.

It's no surprise to me when she pulls her shirt over her head. She has a white bra on this time. It makes her look even more like an angel than normal.

In a very bold move I pull her down on top of me and roll us over. I've learned in the last couple of weeks that she loves it when I kiss her neck, so that's exactly what I do.

She moans softly while her fingers run through my hair. She knows exactly what feels amazing to me. I feel her unbutton and push my pants down, and without thinking I slide them off the rest of the way. She makes me too comfortable to even hesitate a moment.

Once her own pants are off I start to panic. She rubs my back soothingly.

"We don't have to," she says. "Not if you're uncomfortable."

"I'm not," I say. "Uncomfortable. I'm not uncomfortable. I'm… I don't know."

"You're nervous."

I nod.

"I know, baby. It's okay. I promise there's nothing you can do that's wrong. Absolutely nothing."

"But I don't know what I'm doing at all," I tell her.

"That isn't true, Carlisle. It's instinct. I promise."

She pulls my mouth down to hers then, and I forget what I was worried about. My mouth returns to her neck, unable to stay away. Her hand running slowly down my side makes me shiver and when she reaches the waistband of my boxers I'm tempted to hold my breath. Probably not a smart idea.

I drop my head to her shoulder as I groan when her hand wraps around me.

"Are you all right?" she asks.

"I'm fine."

Her eyes are bright and her smile is beautiful and she never breaks eye contact even as she nudges me to roll over again.

I comply easily and move onto my back. She pulls her bottom lip into her mouth when she finally looks down. I'm briefly terrified that she's disappointed, but before I can freak out she lowers her head and kisses a path across my abdomen.

Well this is new.

And amazing.

Oh so amazing.

I thought I loved the way her lips feel on my neck and chest but damn, this is so much better.

She's so close to where I want her, but where I also know I can't have her yet.

There's no way I'll last.

I think she knows this, though.

She won't let me lose control. I know her.

But then she licks a path straight down, and for a moment I doubt I know anything.

She smirks up at me before gently kissing the tip.

I always thought the whole eyes roll back reaction was just an overacted cliché, but it really does happen to me. If I thought her hand was warm and soft, her mouth is some other form of amazing that I can't even quantify. And that's just her lips. What about when she actually opens her mouth? I cannot imagine, but I also cannot wait to find out.

When I open my eyes she's smiling at me.

'I'm... not…" I can't even form thoughts right now, much less words.

"Shh. I know."

She kisses my mouth then, and it should freak me out given where her mouth just was, but it doesn't. The fact she's doing all these things to give me pleasure is too amazing a gift to second guess anything.

She reaches for my hand then and places it over her panties.

Nothing subtle about that hint.

I trace my finger over the design on the lace. She's grinning at me and nods her head for me to continue when I look up. She puts her finger over mine as I move lower.

"Kiss me," she says.

Yes, ma'am.

I'm not as nervous about what I'm about to do as long as she's distracting me. I think that was the whole idea.

She moves to push her panties down her leg, making sure my finger stays where it is. And suddenly I'm touching her.

_Really_ touching her.

Our lips break apart as I look down in shock.

She giggles softly. "Touch me."

I am, but I know what she means. I think I need her help, though.

She guides my hand as I explore. I'm afraid to look down even though I really want to. She gasps when my finger accidentally slips inside her. I swear I didn't mean to do that yet. She's smiling widely so I guess even though it wasn't intentional it was good.

She moves down on my finger and bites her lip, moaning quietly.

"Please don't stop," she whispers.

I don't intend to now. Not after a reaction like that. I move my finger in and out slowly, but I know what she really wants when she takes my thumb and moves it above where my finger is.

And the light bulb goes off over my head.

I start slowly moving my thumb in time with my finger, and it isn't long before Esme is gasping and moving and moaning and she looks so amazing that I never want to stop. Ever.

She tenses around my finger and for a moment I think I did something wrong, but when I look up again her face is the happiest I've ever seen it. When she lets go I feel like we could both stay here, exactly like this forever.

On the other hand, I'm about to explode.

Everything about the entire evening has overloaded my senses to the point where I feel like electricity is running through me. I'm sure if someone touched a piece of metal to me I would light up like a Christmas tree.

Every nerve in my body is on fire and we haven't even really gotten started yet.

Okay, we have, but I'm ready to move on to the main event or this circus might end way too soon.

She grips me again, and I hiss involuntarily at the contact. It feels too good. I need to be inside her now. I've never needed anything this much before.

"Does that feel good?" she asks as she strokes me gently.

I nod, unable to speak.

She kisses along the column of my throat as I hover above her, completely still, unsure of what I'm supposed to do now.

She pushes me onto my back once more, and I'm glad she's taking control. Theoretically I know what to do, but I don't think I can handle moving right now, much less anything else.

She grabs the condom from my wallet, and I watch in fascination as she unrolls it over me.

I'm in another world when she settles her legs on either side of mine. She's so beautiful it almost hurts to look at her. Her hair is a mess and her skin is flushed and a little sweaty. She can't stop smiling and her green eyes are brighter than ever. She's perfect.

She grips me in her hand and with a questioning look that I answer with a nod, she slowly lowers herself onto me. She leans forward and kisses me softly, her entire body spread across mine, skin meeting skin at every point. If I could suspend one moment in time it would be this one. Her skin against mine, the taste of her cherry lip balm, the intimacy of this moment, the way it feels to be inside her. All of it is overwhelming, and as much as I hate to sound like a girl, I want to keep this moment forever.

She sits up again after a moment and places her hands on my chest. She never breaks eye contact as she slowly begins moving up and down on me.

My entire mind blanks as I watch her move above me. She's so gentle yet so passionate. I know now that we were right to wait for this. Tonight was right. We know where we stand with each other and how much we both care.

It's clear in her every movement that she knows I'm not taking advantage of her beauty right now.

She knows that I want her for_her_and for no other reason.

It's only minutes before I feel the familiar tightening in my abdomen, only this time it's so much more intense than before. Probably because for the first time this isn't me doing anything to myself.

Esme senses it too. I can tell by the smile she gives me and the way she rubs her across my abs. That certainly doesn't help me last any longer. The only thing I hear is the wonderful sound of Esme gasping in pleasure before my entire body seizes and I'm taken by the most intense orgasm of my life.

She brings me down slowly, her breathing ragged when she unrolls the condom and disappears.

I lie there trying to grasp at some sort of control. Never in my life have I felt anything close to that, and I'm sure I never will again.

At this point there are only three options to explain how hyper aware I am: I'm dreaming, I'm Spiderman, or I just lost my virginity.

I think it's the third one, but at the moment I can't be sure.

Then Esme walks back in with a black satiny thingy on, and I'm starting to think the third option really is what happened.

She watches me for a moment before pulling back the rumpled covers and crawling into bed beside me. I'm messy, the bed's messy, she's still messy even though she's pretty, but none of that matters at all.

All that matters is that when she moves into my arms and puts her head on my chest she kisses my skin before softly whispering, "I love you, Carlisle."

* * *

><p>Those of you who have read my work before know that I focus more on the emotional than the physical. I think that worked well for these two.<p>

What was your favorite part? Mackenzie and Lauren both liked Spiderman. Kelley liked "Well this is new." I am also a little partial to Spiderman, but my favorite part was the I love you.


	23. Chapter 23

I don't own Twilight.

Thank you, Mackenzie and Kelley for everything you do.

* * *

><p>When I wake up the next morning I expect to feel older. Like when you're a kid and on every birthday you think everything will be different when you wake up.<p>

Except nothing ever is. You're just another year older.

That's kind of how I feel.

True, Esme's still asleep in my arms, but I've gotten used to her being there. I know our relationship will be different now that we've had sex, but somehow I thought I would be different too.

In a way I'm glad I'm not.

If Esme likes me the way I am, then this is the way I want to be.

She stirs in my arms but stays asleep, smiling softly. Maybe that means she's having a good dream. Or maybe she's unconsciously aware of being in my arms and that makes her happy. I like that idea. Let's go with that one.

I watch her for a little while and even run my fingers gently through her hair. She looks so peaceful.

But then I hear buzzing coming from the pocket of my jeans and the magic is broken.

I crawl out of bed as quietly as possible so I don't wake Esme up. I'm a little too aware of the fact I have no clothing on as I rummage around on the floor for my jeans. I grab my phone out of the pocket and am shocked to discover that not only is it ten o'clock but that my brother is also awake before noon on a Saturday.

"What do you want?" I whisper into the phone.

"Whoa, dude, don't get snippy with me. Where the hell ya been?"

I struggle into my boxers while trying to hold the phone to my ear. Once I'm somewhat dressed I walk down the hall toward the kitchen.

"I'm at Esme's," I tell him. "Where did you think I was?"

"Well, that's what I figured. It's just that you usually check in. You guys could have run into Freddy Krueger or something."

"You were worried that I'd been murdered, so you woke me up to make sure I was alive."

He pauses for several seconds before I hear, "Yes? Maybe? I don't know, man. I was just worried, okay? Excuse a guy for being worried about his twin brother."

"Edward Cullen, are you saying you miss me?"

There's a mumbling that sounds vaguely like a yes. I grin. He's not used to me having a life. He's usually the one at some girl's house all the time. Now the tables are turned.

"I'll come home in a little while," I say. "I need to get some laundry together anyway. Also, I'm bringing Esme to Mom and Dad's tomorrow."

"Really? Well that'll be cool."

"You think Mom will like her?" I ask. "I'm terrified about that."

"Please, Carlisle. She's a girl. Mom will love her. She could have three boobs and Mom would love her."

I roll my eyes. "She has two, and they're quite amazing, thank you very much."

"Well, you're the one who's seen them, bro. I believe you. Anyways, I guess I'll see you in a while."

After we hang up I pour myself a glass of orange juice and walk back to the bedroom.

Esme's awake. Sort of. She's still kind of out of it, but she yawns and stretches and smiles at me.

"Hey."

Dang, I love the way her voice sounds when she first wakes up. It's so rough.

"Hi," I say, climbing in beside her.

She leans over and kisses me. "Where'd you go?"

"Edward called."

"This early?"

"It's ten."

Her eyes widen and then she smirks. "I guess you really wore me out."

"You wore _me_ out. Not the other way around."

She laughs. "Okay, Carlisle. So what's up with Edward?"

"He wants to hang out, I guess."

"Oh. Well that's good. You guys haven't seen each other much lately. I have a bunch of things I need to do today anyway."

"Are you sure?" I ask.

"Yeah. Besides, if I don't see you before we go to your parents' in the morning it'll just make tomorrow night even more fun."

I don't know if I can spend a night away from her, but maybe it's a good thing. We can't leave the rest of our lives behind.

At least that's what I'm gonna tell myself.

…

When I get to the apartment, Edward's eating a bowl of cereal watching a Star Wars marathon on Spike.

"Holy shit!"

I jump and spin around. "What?"

"You got laid, bro."

I narrow my eyes at him. "What makes you say that?"

"It's written all over your face. You look like a kid who got everything he wanted for Christmas and then some."

I grin and nod. "Okay, you're right."

His eyes widen like he can't really believe it.

"Well, damn, if it wasn't morning I'd go grab some beers. Conrats, man, you're all grown up."

I laugh. I can't help it. He's so straightforward.

"So, you nervous about tomorrow?" he asks.

"Yes. I really want them to like her. She's excited, though. I think."

"She'll be fine," he tells me. "Esme could charm anyone."

That's true. It's impossible not to fall in love with her.

…

Later that night when I'm lying in my bed, I wish it was Esme's. I've gotten so used to her apartment and her bed and having her there with me. This room is too small, the bed is too uncomfortable, and I feel empty without her next to me.

I toss and turn for what seems like hours when finally my phone vibrates.

"Esme." I may have just seen her this morning, but it feels like forever since I've heard her perfect voice.

"Hey," she says. "How did your day with Edward go?"

"Boring," I admit. "We just sat around watching TV and playing video games."

She giggles. "You two are such guys."

What else am I supposed to be? I'm definitely not a girl. If I am, someone has some explaining to do as far as my anatomy goes.

"Did you miss me?" she asks. Something in her voice is devious. I don't know what she's doing but I like it.

"More than you can imagine," I tell her.

"And be honest, how many times today have you thought about last night?"

I groan, images of her on top me flooding my mind. "A lot."

"Right now?" she asks.

I certainly am now.

"Yes," I breathe.

"And be honest again, have you been touching yourself while thinking about last night?"

Holy…

This is called phone sex. I'm sure it is. I've seen this in movies. Now it's happening in my bedroom. And hers too. Whoa.

I immediately pull myself free from my boxers as images of last night continue to assault my mind. I'm already so close. I'm sure the next word she says will send me over.

"Esme?"

"Yeah?"

"What are you doing?"

"Thinking about how much I wish you were in me right now."

That does it.

I can hardly breathe after the second best orgasm of my life. Last night notwithstanding, of course.

"Are you there?" she asks.

"Yeah… Yeah, I'm here."

"That was amazing hearing you like that, baby."

"Really?"

Even though I can't see her, I can imagine her nodding. "It really was. Sweet dreams, my perfect man. I love you and I can't wait to see you tomorrow."

Sweet dreams indeed, mystery girl. Sweet dreams indeed.


	24. Chapter 24

I don't own _Twilight_.

Thank you Mackenzie, Lauren, and Kelley. Kelley, thank you so much for writing with me last night.

Thank you all for putting up with my absence while college tried to kill me. The good news is I'm ahead on this story now so there will be a chapter a day next week.

* * *

><p>The next morning when I pull up in front of Esme's apartment and text her that I'm here, I feel like a kid picking up his first date in high school. I get the feeling Esme and I did things out of order, but that's okay. It feels good to be able to pick her up like this at least once.<p>

When she comes down the stairs she takes my breath away. She's wearing a white lacey kind of dress with a gray coat over it and has her hair pinned back on one side.

My Esme was without a doubt born in the wrong decade. She exudes a classic charm and elegance out of every pore of her body.

"Hi," she says brightly, climbing into the car and kissing me on the cheek.

"Are you sure you want to go meet these people?" I ask.

She laughs and slaps my arm playfully. "They're you're family. Of course I want to meet them. Anyone who is important to you is important to me too."

"Really?"

She looks at me quizzically. "Really, really."

This time I laugh and then we're on our way. The drive to my parents' house isn't very long, but I take a more scenic route under the guise of wanting to show Esme the view. Really I just want her to myself for as long as possible. I know once we get to the house my mom will monopolize her every second in the kitchen.

My phone vibrates with a text when we're halfway there.

"That has to be Edward."

Esme giggles when she looks at it. "Yep. He wants to know if we're going to take all day getting there."

"Tell him 'yes'."

"Not so anxious to share me, are you?"

I shake my head. "I want to keep you all to myself."

"Will you lock me away in a tower?" she asks playfully.

"And have to battle a dragon to get to you? No thanks."

"Aww, too bad. Aren't I worth it?"

I reach across the seat and take her hand. "You're worth everything."

…

When we pull up outside of my parents' large two-story home Esme looks up at it in awe. I want to kick myself for forgetting that she comes from such a humble background, and that this might intimidate her.

Then I remember douchebag apparently lived in a house even bigger than this one, and I want to kick him too.

"It's beautiful," she finally says as we climb out of the car and I clasp her hand in mine.

"You aren't nervous, are you?"

She shakes her head. "No, but I think you are."

I tilt my head. I must look confused because she laughs for a moment.

"You're hand is shaking," she tells me.

I guess it is. Okay, maybe I'm more nervous about this than she is. I've never brought a girl home before. I've never had a girl to bring home. This is a brand new experience for me and quite honestly I'm a little terrified.

Edward comes outside and hugs Esme before turning to me.

"Ready to throw her to the wolves, bro?"

Thankfully Esme punches his arm so I don't have to punch his face.

"I'm just messing with you," he says. "Come on, they'll love you."

Esme smiles brightly and links one arm with Edward's and one with mine. "Lead the way, my brave boys."

…

I don't know why I ever worried. Mom loves her immediately. The minute we walk into the kitchen, mom throws her arms around Esme, and all I hear is an embarrassing speech about how proud she is that I've finally found someone.

The shit eating grin on Edward's face makes me want to punch him even more now.

"Mom."

More rambling about being proud of me.

"Mom."

Oh God, she's talking about when I was a baby.

"MOM."

Edward laughs. Mom's still not listening.

I finally have to physically pull my mom off Esme. What I didn't count on was that she would smile at me for a moment before sobbing and pulling me into their embrace.

Kill me now, please.

At long last the most welcome sound in the world floats into the kitchen.

"Elizabeth, let the poor girl breathe."

Thank you, God, for sending my father at just the right moment.

"Oh hush," she says turning to face dad after finally releasing me. She doesn't quite let go of Esme yet, though. She's still got a good grip on her arm.

She's grinning so maybe that's a good thing. Then again she could just be thinking that my mom's insane. And she would be correct.

"Look at this beautiful woman your son managed to catch," she says, pulling Esme forward.

Managed to catch? Really, mom?

If anything _she_ pursued _me._

Somehow I don't think mentioning that Esme was practically humping me in her living room, begging me to sleep with her will help me win any points right now.

My father steps forward and turns on all the Cullen charm that I was not blessed with at birth. He kisses her hand, gives her the smile I wish I knew how to do, and is just in general reminiscent of Gregory Peck.

How am I supposed to compete with that?

But then she turns to me and smiles as she wraps her arm around my waist and I remember I don't need to be suave. Esme loves me as I am. Nerdy glasses and all.

…

We sit down for brunch, and mom still will not stop talking. It's like she wants Esme's entire life story. She's asking things even I don't know yet.

Edward can't even be bothered to pay attention. All that matters is the plate of food in front of him.

My father, on the other hand, seems equally interested in my girl. It makes me proud that my parents have both fallen for her. It's impossible not to love her.

Mom keeps glancing at me and smiling as Esme tells them how she fell for me. I know she's proud, but the teary smiles can stop. They're making me feel weird.

After we eat, Esme volunteers to help mom clean up while my father and I move to the living room with Edward.

"Damn, I thought Mom would never shut up," Edward says with a laugh.

I roll my eyes. "At least it went over better than it could have."

My father smiles. "Your mother's just proud, son. She can't help it."

"And to think I was scared you guys might not like her."

"Why would you think that? She's perfect for you and so sweet."

I nod. "I've never brought a girl home, though. It was terrifying."

"Ah, don't worry so much. You know your mother's going to want her over all the time now, right?"

I groan and throw my head back while Edward laughs. "I hadn't even thought about that."

Again, kill me now.

I hear them laughing all the way back to the kitchen where I find Esme loading the dishwasher by herself.

"Where'd my mom go?" I ask, sitting down at the bar.

"She went to get the baby albums."

"WHAT?"

"Oh, baby, I'm just kidding. Don't freak out."

I look at her sideways. "Not funny."

"What's not funny?" my mom asks, coming back in the room.

"Nothing," I say. "But I'm burning all the photo albums later."

"Nonsense," she says with a wave of her hand. "I'll hide them from you."

I groan and grab Esme's hand. "Come on. I'm taking you on a tour."

I show her around the ground floor and the backyard. There's a pool and her eyes light up when she sees it even though it's way too cold to go in it until spring.

I take her upstairs and straight to my old bedroom, which is exactly as I left it in high school. She walks around looking at the books and music that I didn't take with me when I moved out.

"Do you ever still stay here?" she asks, sitting on the bed and reaching for my hand.

"Yeah, some weekends. That's why it stays like this. Edward's bedroom too."

We lie down and I hold her in the bed I never could have dreamed of having a girl in. Her head is on my chest while she plays with one of the buttons on my shirt.

"I wish I had known you in high school," she says.

I snort. I can't help it. "You wouldn't have looked twice at me. I blended in with the lockers."

"I'm sure that's not true, Carlisle. And besides, even if it is, I was invisible too."

"I would have seen you," I say. "And I would have thought you were the most beautiful girl in the world."

She lifts her head and kisses me softly before whispering, "Somehow I don't doubt that anymore."


	25. Chapter 25

I don't own _Twilight_.

Thanks to Mackenzie, Kelley, and Lauren as always. And Alex and Ashley for writing with me.

Double update today! Might be a couple of these next week too. We're very close to the end of the story and I want to hit complete by Friday.

* * *

><p>We spend that night at my parents', sleeping side by side in my old bed.<p>

Edward stays too, demanding that he'd better get homemade pancakes the next morning.

Before going to bed, the three of us study together for a couple hours for the midterm we have the next morning. I'm so amazed and proud by how far Esme has come this semester. Releasing herself from Charles did wonders, not only for her self-esteem, but for her grades too. She's no longer failing – far from it, in fact.

We quiz each other until we're all falling asleep and then go to bed.

…

Just as Edward demanded, there are pancakes when we wake up. Mom claims we all need a healthy breakfast, and she can't imagine what we eat when she isn't cooking for us. I don't have the heart to tell her it's usually tacos from the gas station.

Edward follows behind us in his car all the way to campus, and by the time we park, my nerves are getting the better of me. I know the material, but I hate tests.

I always freeze up and forget everything.

Esme takes my hand. She knows exactly what I'm thinking, and just her presence next to me helps me relax.

"It'll be okay," she says as we walk into the classroom and take our seats.

We have to sit every other desk on test days but it doesn't stop the three of us from getting a last cram session in before the professor arrives.

I smile when I see Charles sitting by himself at the front of the class, no one willing to study with him.

When the test actually starts, I get nervous again until I notice Esme next to me furiously scribbling answers like she's the queen of engineering. Knowing that she's so confident in her ability because of all the studying we do together gives me the confidence to remember I know the material just as well as she does.

…

An hour and a half later Esme and I are sitting at a table in the courtyard with a massive plate of greasy French fries between us, waiting for Edward to finish the test.

The fact that it's taken him till the end of the class period would concern me _if_ the fact that I was one of the first ones finished didn't concern me more.

"I hope he didn't forget everything."

"Stop worrying so much," she tells me. "He'll be fine. I'm sure I got half the questions wrong since I finished so fast."

"I'm sure you didn't."

She nods. "I know. It's just, you know how when you notice you're the first one finished, your only thought is 'Oh, God, what did I do wrong?'"

"Maybe the fact you were the first one finished just proves that you're brilliant."

She raises her eyebrows as she smirks and leans forward. "Does it now, Mr. Cullen? Well, flattery will get you everywhere."

She kisses me in the middle of a crowded courtyard, over a plate of fast food, but I don't care. It's just us in that moment until a throat clearing rudely interrupts.

"By all means, don't let me stop you," Edward says as he sits down. "Please, do continue. I'll just eat all the fries."

Esme grabs the plate and holds it close to her, glaring at Edward.

"My fries."

"You could have played a seagull in _Finding Nemo_ with that attitude," he tells her.

She only glares at him harder.

"Mine."

He laughs and steals a fry anyway.

"So how do you guys think you did," he asks.

I shrug. "I don't even want to guess. I just can't wait till we get them back."

He nods. "I know what you mean. I hate waiting to get tests back."

"Were you the last one in there?" Esme asks.

He shakes his head. "Nope. As a matter of fact Charles was still taking his when I finished. Then there was one other girl too."

We all laugh. I hate to feel happy at the expense of another person, but I can't help hoping Charles fails. Karma will get him for what he did to my Esme.

…

I meet Esme at her apartment when she gets off work that evening. We decide to order pizza and relax on the couch since it's been such a busy day. She doesn't even change – just takes off her heels.

I keep staring at her legs while we eat. I can't help it. They're perfect and the way her skirt fits to them is so sexy.

I wonder if I should try to initiate sex on the couch. That could be hot, right?

Except for the small problem that I've never initiated sex anywhere.

She cleans up the kitchen when we finish eating and then comes back and sits right down in my lap. I would be shocked if I weren't so thrilled to have her there.

"Hi," she says, resting her head on my shoulder.

I rub her back and place my free hand on her thigh so I can act like I just want to hold her there.

"Know what?" she says.

"Hmm?"

"I think you deserve a little reward for being such a good student."

I think I might love where this is going. That's what I think.

"What did you have in mind?"

She moves so that she's sitting up in my lap with her legs on either side of mine. Her skirt is so tight it moves almost all the way up her legs.

"I love you so much, Carlisle," she says before leaning forward to kiss me. "I don't think you even know how much."

…

An hour later we're lying down on the couch we just defiled, watching a movie. And since my brother put the idea in her head, of course she wants to watch _Nemo_. I feel dirty watching a kid's movie after the sex we just had.

I run my fingers through her hair while she lies on my chest.

"Esme," I say. "I want to meet your family."

She picks her head up suddenly, like she's startled.

"My family?"

I nod. "You know mine now. It's only fair."

"That's true," she agrees. "But I don't have much contact with them anymore. They moved out to the country after I moved out, and I don't see them that often."

"Do they even know about me?"

She bites her lip and shakes her head. "No, but only because they don't even approve of the fact I live on my own or that I date. It was disastrous when I took Charles to meet them. I'm not sure I want to face that again."

"So you don't want them to know the person you love?"

"Of course I do," she says. "I wish I felt that if I introduced you they would approve, but I know better. They're very old-fashioned, baby. They wish I still lived with them. If they had their way I would be under their roof until I was married to someone they chose for me. I don't want to take you out there and then see their faces when they don't agree with the choice I know was right for me."

"Then why should it matter?" I ask. "If you know this is right then why does it make a difference what they think? Please, Esme, just try. I want to meet the people I have to thank for your existence."

She smiles softly. "You're so corny, you know that? But it's one of the things I love about you. Okay, babe, I'll try. I'll call them tomorrow."

"Thank you," I say. "That's all I'm asking."


	26. Chapter 26

I don't own _Twilight_.

Thanks to Mackenzie L for betaing, and to kr2009 and texasunshine for pre-reading.

* * *

><p>How in the hell can it possibly take an hour to get ready for a date?<p>

I want to take Esme somewhere nice for dinner so I manage to get us reservations to this upscale restaurant downtown, but now she's been shut up in the bedroom for an hour and seven minutes getting dressed.

Did she trip over the dresser and pass out?

Well now, that might be a valid concern. Maybe I should check on her.

I set down the remote and walk down the hallway.

"Esme," I call, knocking on the door. "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine, babe. I'm just fixing my hair."

"Oh." What in the world is she doing to her hair that takes so long? "Well, can I see?"

"No," she calls. "I want it to be a surprise."

Why?

I know better than to ask that question now, though. Esme is like a little kid about surprises. She loves them. More specifically she loves surprising people. It isn't her favorite thing to have it done to her.

I go back to the living room to wait. It feels like I've sat there for hours already, but it doesn't matter. I'd wait forever for Esme, and if she wants to get all dressed up for me than who am I to argue?

…

When the door finally opens and Esme appears, the sight in front of me definitely does not disappoint.

She's in a beautiful black dress and has her hair pulled to the side with a sparkly thingy in it. Her heels make her nearly as tall as me and her red coat is longer than her dress.

She's completely stunning.

It sounds cheesy but I almost can't breathe.

I feel unworthy in my boring black button-down shirt and the slacks Edward forced me into. Then I remember I'm going to escort her into a restaurant dressed like this, and all it takes is the thought of all the other men's faces to bring my confidence back.

She smiles at me. "Do I look okay?"

Okay? Does she look okay? She looks a whole lot better than just okay.

"You look amazing, Esme. I can't…"

I can't even finish my sentence. That's what I can't do.

Is she really mine?

I think the time for pinching myself is long gone so I settle for touching her to make sure she's real.

She captures my hand when I run my finger over the neckline of her dress.

"I love this shirt on you," she says. "Thank you for doing this. For taking me out. It's been a long time since I've gotten to dress up. I love it."

I nod. "You look so beautiful."

Did I already say that? I'm not sure. I don't really care. I want to say it over and over again.

"Let me just do one thing," she says, taking my hand and leading me to the bathroom.

She runs her fingers under the faucet and then arranges my hair. I have no idea what she's doing since I can't take my eyes off her long enough to look in the mirror. When she pulls back I see she's fixed my bangs so they go to the side a little bit instead of falling all over my forehead.

I look like a blonde Jimmy Stewart.

"There," she says. "So handsome."

I smile at her and kiss her cheek. "Are we ready to go now?"

She nods, and hand in hand we walk down to my car, where – like the perfect gentleman I am – I open the door and help her in.

…

The drive to the restaurant is short. They even have optional valet parking. Normally I wouldn't let anyone else touch my car, but it's cold out tonight so I don't want to make Esme walk – especially not in the heels she's wearing.

I could always carry her. That might be romantic. I'm not sure how the other patrons would feel about that, though. Better file that idea away for when we get home.

We're seated as soon as we walk in, and I can't help but smile at the way Esme looks around, her eyes lighting up at the fancy surroundings.

"This place is beautiful," she finally says.

"You mean he-who-must-not-be-named never took you to a place like this?"

"Oh, stop it," she says with a grin. "Yes, he did, but we've already established I never felt equal to him so I never really enjoyed myself. Not the way I do when I'm out with you."

"I'm glad I could bring you here," I tell her. It means everything to me to give her these experiences she wants.

The waiter comes and we order our food. I ask him for a bottle of wine even though I'm not drinking since someone has to get us home. Esme loves white wine, though. She deserves the best.

"I talked to my mom this afternoon," she says after several moments. "About wanting to visit."

The suspense might kill me.

"And? Did you mention why you wanted to?"

She nods. "I sure did."

Oh my God, she's really trying to kill me.

"And?" I prompt again.

"How would you feel about spending Thanksgiving with them?"

"They asked you to bring your boyfriend home for Thanksgiving?"

This sounds so uncharacteristic of them. I wonder what she told them about me.

"Yep. We talked for a while and I explained how you were the exact opposite of Charles, and everything they said about him had been right, and that I really wanted them to know you. I think Mom understood how much it means to both of us, so she invited us for the weekend."

"The whole weekend?"

She giggles, and I'm sure my eyes are as large as the plates in front of us, but a whole weekend in the country with her parents? I'm not sure I can do that.

"It'll be fine, Carlisle. I promise. She sounds excited to meet you actually. It's pretty amazing."

"Okay," I tell her. "Thanksgiving with your parents it is then."

I hope I know what I'm getting myself into. Better yet, how am I going to tell my mom I won't be at their place that day?

…

When we get back to the apartment after dinner I call Edward while Esme is in the shower.

"What's up, bro?" he asks.

"Dude, I'm spending Thanksgiving weekend with Esme's parents."

"You're joking, right? Mom is totally going to shit a brick. Every time I talk to her she won't shut the hell up about how perfect Esme is."

"I know," I say, rubbing my face, trying to clear my thoughts. "But I asked her to meet them. I'm just afraid of Mom's wrath at me for missing dinner at their house."

"Well, I would talk to her about it if I were you. You're gonna have to take Esme over there at some point that week. Maybe that will be good enough for her."

"You're right," I tell him. "I'll talk to her tomorrow. Thanks, Edward."

"Anytime, big bro."

We hang up just in time for Esme to come out of the bathroom in her tiny shorts and top. She reaches out her hand and I take it gladly

"Bedtime?"

I nod, unable to wait any longer to get her into bed. It feels so natural now. There's none of the previous awkwardness. I know what she likes and doesn't like, and I even last a whole lot longer than I used to.

She's so beautiful when we're done, and her hair is messy and she can't stop smiling.

I make her look like that. I make her smile like that.

And then – just like every night – she falls asleep with her head on my chest, and I can't believe she's really mine. I want to be with her forever.

If I live past Thanksgiving, that is.


	27. Chapter 27

I don't own _Twilight_.

Thank you, as always, to Makenzie, Kelley, and Lauren.

**Me:** "I'm trying to decide if I want to post Nerdlisle 27 now."

**Anhanninen:** "You should!"

**Me:** "Ah hell, I suck at peer pressure... Okay, I'll do it!"

Everyone say thank you, Ash!

* * *

><p>Esme was definitely exaggerating when she said her parents live a little ways out in the country. As far as I'm concerned this is a long ways out in the country. I feel like I've been in this damn car for ten years already.<p>

"Are we there yet?"

She laughs. "No, Carlisle, now stop asking."

"Well, how long have we been on the road?"

"About forty minutes."

No way.

"It has to have been longer than that."

She shakes her head while I pout. "No, sir. I think you're just nervous and it's messing with your head."

"Well, aren't you nervous?"

"Yes, but they're my parents. I know them already. You're the one who asked to meet them and now you're freaking out."

"Because I don't even know these people and they already scare me."

"Oh, please, they're not scary. Just wait and see. Everything will be fine. They are a little odd, though. They raise goats and chickens."

Oh great. This should be fun.

…

An hour later Esme finally turns off the highway onto a smaller road, and then from there onto a dirt road, which may in fact be a driveway. I don't know. I'm a city boy. I wasn't meant for life out here in the middle of nowhere.

Maybe I should ask Esme if the chickens will attack me. I think I might be afraid of chickens now.

The house is only one story and pretty tiny compared to the one I grew up in. I know Esme didn't grow up here, but still, they could have at least made room for her.

I'm wondering if we'll have to sleep in her car. That might be nice, come to think of it. She'd have to sleep on top of me.

A woman in a dress with an apron over it comes out to greet us.

God help me, her mom's June Cleaver but scarier.

She smiles as Esme hugs her, and I start to think maybe this won't be so terrifying. At least she didn't charge at me with a steak knife for daring to love her little girl. Yet.

She releases Esme and then turns to me. I feel like I'm about to be turned to stone or something. Her eyes are like little lasers. They can see through me, I just know it.

But then she smiles. "You must be Carlisle."

I want to look around behind me. Is there someone else here I could possibly be?

She reaches out her hand and I go to shake it, but then she pulls me to her and hugs me. I panic inside. I don't think she was holding a knife but the only thing I can think is that she wants to stab me. Please don't tell me Esme was this terrified meeting my parents.

She pats my cheek as she smiles at me. "So handsome," she says. "Esme's told me so much about you."

At this point I'm glaring daggers at Esme, who is holding her hand over her mouth to stop herself from laughing out loud.

I don't know what I expected but the woman in front of me sure isn't what I prepared myself for.

"Umm… It's nice to meet you, Mrs. Platt," I say.

"Oh, dear, none of that. Please call me Dora."

I nod and swallow thickly. I feel like I'm out at sea in a tiny boat. I'm not used to meeting new people and it makes me a little uncomfortable the longer I stand here. I want my Esme.

I think she senses my discomfort because she steps forward and takes my hand.

"Mom, why don't we grab our bags and we'll meet you inside."

Her mother nods. "Okay, dear. I've just taken a pie out of the oven. We can have a slice while I get to know your young man."

I'm too distracted to even pay attention to the last part of that statement. Did she say something about pie? I want some pie. I'm tempted to say the bags can wait, but then I remember I have some whisper-yelling to do at Esme and we need to be alone for that.

Once her mom is in the house and out of earshot, Esme starts laughing.

"You should have seen your face," she says. "Priceless."

"I came here expecting to be murdered," I tell her. "Why the hell did you get me so worked up thinking they were going to hate me?"

"I told you I wasn't sure how they would react. My mom's good at reading people, though. I think she can tell you're nothing like Charles. She likes you. I know she does."

"Yeah, I got that far on my own, thanks. What about your dad, though? I think I'm more afraid of him."

"I'm sure he's around here somewhere," she says. "Don't worry. Once my mom starts talking about how great she obviously thinks you are he'll warm right up."

"I don't know if that makes me feel any better," I tell her as we pick up the bags and walk into the house.

It's even smaller on the inside. How do two people live in here? It's about the size of Esme's apartment, but obviously has more than one bedroom.

When we walk into the kitchen I see a man sitting at the table and my vision gets blurry. Esme grips my hand, no doubt aware that I'm about to hyperventilate.

Her father looks me up and down for what feels like an eternity before extending his hand.

I'm so glad all the introductions are out of the way. Now all I have to worry about is not screwing up and saying something stupid in front of these people for four whole days.

That'll be a miracle.

I smile when Esme's father wraps his large arms around her and almost lifts her off the ground. I don't know what she was worried about acting like her parents were horrible people. Yeah, I can tell they're old fashioned and it might take her dad some time to warm up to me, but I really was expecting ax murderers.

We all sit around the table while Esme's mom puts a plate of apple pie in front of each of us. The whole room smells like apples now. It's like getting a day pass to heaven.

"So, Carlisle…" Oh, here we go. "Esme tells us you go to school with her."

I clear my throat because really this pie is so delicious I don't want to stop eating long enough to answer her father.

"Yes, sir," I finally say. "We have a class together."

He nods. "And you think my princess here is going to make a fine engineer one day?"

I smile when he pats her head. She looks annoyed at the non-verbal implication of being a cocker spaniel, but I think it's nice.

"Yes, sir," I say again, nearly cringing. I'm making this sound like a court marshal with all my 'sirs'.

"Good."

Okay… Apparently Mr. Platt isn't very verbose. That's excellent. I like that. The fewer questions he asks, the less opportunity I have to mess up.

All Esme's talk about how they wouldn't approve of me simply because they didn't approve of her dating, and how she didn't have much contact with them anymore seems a bit ridiculous to me now. She fits in here seamlessly, and I even start to relax as we're served a second helping of pie.

Then I get informed that Esme wants to show me the goats and chickens.

Was wanting to meet her parents really worth the trauma I'm sure I'll suffer at the hands of farm animals?

She leads me through the door in the kitchen, and the minute we step outside I'm surrounded by little dog looking things with horns. Is this a goat? They look like they could stab me.

I back away slowly until Esme grabs my hand and pulls me forward again.

"They're perfectly friendly," she says. "Don't worry so much."

I don't think so but I'll take her word for it. She's petting one of them, so I reach out and run my hand over its back tentatively. It looks at me sideways and slightly menacingly, but it doesn't charge or anything. In reality all it would have to do is turn sideways and jab, and it would have my nuts skewered.

I don't think Esme would appreciate that very much.

I think it likes my girlfriend, actually. She's mine, goat. Back off and get your own.

Esme laughs at the way I'm looking at the little girlfriend stealer.

"I take it you don't want to be BFF's with the goat?"

"I don't think we'll be watching the game together, no."

She laughs again. "You don't even watch sports."

"It was a joke."

She pats my hand and kisses me. Ha. Take that, goat.

"I know," she says before turning serious. "I'm glad we came. Thank you for convincing me."

I nod. "I'm glad we came too."

Despite the killer goats I think this weekend will be better than either of us planned.


	28. Chapter 28

I don't own _Twilight_.

Thank you, Mackenzie, Kelley, and Lauren.

This is the second to last chapter. Tomorrow I will post the final chapter and epilogue one after the other.

* * *

><p>The next morning when I wake up in a tiny twin bed with Esme's limbs wrapped around me, I don't want to move. But I can smell coffee, and as much as I want to stay in bed with my angel, I want that coffee more.<p>

I carefully unwrap myself from Esme's grip without waking her up, and groggily make my way down the hallway toward the kitchen. Her mother is at the stove making eggs and bacon, and her father is sitting at the table reading the paper.

This is the quaintest family I have ever been around.

It's like something out of a magazine.

"Good morning, Carlisle," Esme's mother says brightly. Okay, so they're morning people. I'll have to remember that because I am most certainly not.

"Did you sleep well?"

I nod and sit down, wondering if it would be rude to make my own cup of deliciousness. Before I can spend too long thinking about it, a cup materializes in front of me. My eyes widen. She read my mind. I look up and thank her, feeling mildly embarrassed when she smiles at me fondly.

I'm really starting to think Esme was panicking for nothing about her family's reaction to me.

"I take it Esme's still sleeping?" her mother asks as she takes her seat.

I nod. "Yeah. I didn't want to wake her up, but I can't help myself when I smell coffee."

She laughs lightly. "Esme always loved to sleep late. Poor thing, she works so hard to be independent."

I'm concerned about where this conversation might be going, but I stay quiet. Maybe I can figure out whether or not they have a problem with us even though I don't see any signs of disapproval.

"It's that job of hers," her father says gruffly. "She's wearing herself out trying to prove a point."

This is the part where I wish I could back slowly out of the room. But since that would never go unnoticed, I sit completely still and try to blend into my chair.

It shouldn't come as any great shock to me when that plan fails miserably. Mrs. Platt notices my discomfort and immediately pats my hand.

"Oh, I'm sorry, dear. We don't mean to imply anything. It's just hard sometimes to let one's princess be out there in the world on her own. I must say, I think I'm going to be glad she has you, though. You're so much nicer than that previous young man of hers."

My inner twelve-year-old does a fist pump.

Her father huffs. "That boy was all wrong for her. Cocky bastard."

Oh my God, I think I love this man. I want to take him fishing, or whatever it is people do out here in the country.

Mrs. Platt smiles at her husband before turning to me. "But not you, dear. I can see you really love my little girl."

I nod. "More than anything."

Just then a pair of small, feminine arms wrap around my neck from behind.

"I love you too," Esme whispers.

Esme slides into the seat beside me, and I'm the most relaxed I've felt all morning. We enjoy a quiet breakfast while her mother discusses what she's already been preparing for Thanksgiving dinner. I know I should call my own family sometime today, but for now I'm content to spend some time with Esme's.

…

After breakfast, Esme's mother clears everyone out of the kitchen so that she can work on preparing dinner. Esme and I go back to the guest bedroom and lie down for a little while. It feels good just to be lazy on a day we would normally have class and work.

"They seem to like you," she says.

"Yeah, they do."

"What did you guys talk about before I came in?"

"Oh, not much. Just how much they prefer me to Charles."

"Shut up! Seriously? They said that?"

I nod and laugh at her shocked expression. "Yeah, they did."

"Wow. They really do like you."

"I guess your theory about how awful this weekend would go isn't quite panning out, is it?"

She shakes her head. "No, but I'm glad it's going well."

"Me too," I tell her. "Me too."

"Let's go for a walk," she says suddenly. "It's been so long since I've been out here; I want to look around."

I laugh at her enthusiasm as she jumps off the bed and grabs her coat. We walk hand in hand out through the kitchen and out the back door. The goats are still here but now there are several chickens too.

She really wasn't joking about all the animals.

"I'm not as fond of the chickens," she says. "But I love the goats." She pats one on the head and it makes the weirdest noise I've ever heard, but Esme smiles at it like it sang for her.

We walk around the front of the house and down to the road. It's strange to me that I've lived in the area my entire life but I've never spent any time out here. I've been on this highway many times, but I guess it never occurred to me that people live out here.

That my Esme's family lives out here.

She smiles as she looks at the sky.

"It's getting cloudy. Maybe it'll snow later."

"You would love that, wouldn't you?" I ask, putting my arm around her shoulder. I imagine she's the type who loves to make snow angels and build snowmen. It could be fun to do those things with her. I hope it snows too.

…

By the time we get back to the house Mrs. Platt is setting out the food for Thanksgiving dinner. I cannot wait to eat everything she's putting on the table.

"Just in time, you two. Dinner will be ready any moment."

Esme wastes no time sitting down and patting the seat next to her with a grin. She's like a little kid in her excitement. I love that about her. She has such a sweet, easy-going manner. It's impossible not to smile around her.

Her father comes in and carves the turkey after her mother says grace. With all the food being piled on my plate, I'm sure I'll need a nap after this.

The conversation is flowing and the food is excellent throughout dinner. I laugh easily with Esme's family, and it's a little surprising still just how well I seem to fit in here.

I'll never get over being able to make fun of her for being so worried about this.

Esme's dream comes true after dinner when we notice light snow flakes begin to come down.

"Maybe there'll be enough on the ground to play in it tomorrow," she says while we sit on the porch and watch it fall.

"Maybe," I agree, moving to stand beside her and hold her against my chest.

"Is it strange that I almost don't want to go home tomorrow?" she asks. "I want to stay in the middle of nowhere with you and not worry about traffic, or school, or other people."

I laugh. "Edward would kill us."

She snorts. "If the goats didn't kill him first."

I kiss a path along her neck, not even caring that her parents might see. "I love you, Esme," I whisper. "So much."

She turns in my arms and kisses me softly. "Okay, I lied. I do want to go back to civilization. I miss the privacy of my apartment."

I smile. Yes, I miss the privacy of her apartment too. Being in a tiny bed is nice, but when you can't act on the closeness it's a little frustrating. Being back home will be wonderful. But even though I won't miss the demon goats at all, I will miss Esme's family. They love her so much even if she can't always see it.

Anyone who loves my Esme is loved by me too.


	29. Chapter 29

I don't own _Twilight._

Thank you, Mackenzie, Kelley, and Lauren.

* * *

><p>"Are you ready for this?"<p>

"Absolutely not."

"Ah, come on, Esme. You know everything. You're a brilliant student."

She looks up and smiles. "Well, as long as you think so, then I guess I'll be okay."

We're standing in front of the engineering building, hand in hand, about to go inside for our first final. We've both come so far since the beginning of the semester, and in very different ways. I'm more outgoing now, and Esme isn't so hard on herself. Her grades have improved so much since that first test she failed too.

I'd set out to make her my study buddy and discovered she was the love of my life in the process.

This would be quite a profound moment if my brother didn't have such a knack for ruining those things.

"You guys are so stupid. Let's get this test over with. I've got others to study for, you know."

I roll my eyes. "All three of us do, genius."

We make our way to the classroom and take our seats. This feels eerily similar to three weeks ago when we took our midterm, but this is infinitely more serious. I tell myself over and over again not to panic. It's just a test. Just a test that's worth more than any other, but still just a test.

When the professor comes in and begins handing out the test booklets, Esme smiles at me. It's one of the most confident smiles she's given me. She knows what she's doing. She's not afraid of this.

I'm not either anymore.

…

My mother insists we all go to their house for dinner after our test even though we have more to study for. I think she's trying to fatten us up with all the food she serves, but she claims it'll help us focus.

Yeah right, Mom. Halfway through the meal I'm already falling asleep.

"Are you sure you've had enough to eat, Carlisle?"

"Yes, Mom. I'm full."

"But, honey, you hardly touched your potatoes."

"Elizabeth, stop badgering the poor boy," my father says while Edward laughs.

Esme rubs my shoulder and smiles before returning to her meal. I swear the girl could eat everything in the house if my mom would let her. My Esme loves to eat.

Maybe that's why mom loves her so much.

Nah. It's because Esme loves me.

"When do you kids find out how you did?" my father asks.

"The results should be online late next week."

He nods. "Well, I always knew neither you would follow my footsteps into law, but I'm damn proud of both of you anyway."

Edward momentarily looks up from his plate. "Aww, shucks, pops, that's so sweet."

And just like that, a serious moment is funny again. Sometimes this family drives me bananas, but right now I love them. And I love that they've pulled Esme so fully into the fold. She's one of them, just as I'm now one of her family.

Nothing has ever felt as right as having her here at my parents' kitchen table.

…

I log into my college account everyday starting the day after my last exam. I hate this waiting part more than anything. I know it's wishful thinking to hope the grades will be posted so soon, but I can't help it. I know Esme's anxious to know too. I want to be able to celebrate already. I know we both passed. The only question is, by how much?

It feels like it takes years for the page to load when I log in exactly one week after my last test. This is notoriously the day the grades go up. I'm so nervous my leg is bouncing and my foot might wear a hole in Esme's carpet.

And just like that, there's a notification.

"Esme!"

I hear a thud and running footsteps.

"What?" she asks when she gets to the living room.

"Grades are up."

"Geez, Carlisle, I thought someone died. Don't scare me like that."

"But don't you want to know how you did?"

"Of course I do." She sits next to me on the couch and curls into my side. "Come on, let's see your grades, mister."

I tentatively open the link, and breathe a huge sigh of relief when Esme squeals loudly.

All A's.

"I'm so proud of you, baby," she says before kissing me.

She tries to move into my lap and shove the computer out, but I don't let her. I'm onto her. I know she's trying to avoid her own grades. She may say she wants to see them, but deep down she's terrified.

"No, ma'am. It's time to check yours."

She rolls her eyes, but complies by typing in her log-in information.

"Would you like to do the honors, Mr. Cullen?"

I smile and click the link. More A's. All of them, in fact. I could not be more proud when I see her eyes light up as she looks at the screen. She bites her lip and shakes her head slightly like she can't believe what she's seeing.

I put my arm around her and kiss her temple. "You did it, Esme. I knew you would."

"So did you," she says. "Straight A's. Wow. And both of us."

She's stunned. I almost laugh at the look on her face.

"You know what I think?" I ask, reaching for the buttons on her jeans. "I think you deserve a special reward for working so hard this semester."

I motion for her to lie back on the couch as I pull her jeans and panties down together. The first time I did this was hands down the most frightening moment of my life. But now, with Esme's help, it's second nature. There's nothing I love doing for her more than this.

The way her head always falls back the same way the first moment I taste her. The way her eyes are always bright and shining, and the sounds she makes – so beautiful. It's never long before she falls apart, and every single time, it happens with her hand in my hair, holding her to me.

As if I would want to be anywhere else.


	30. Chapter 30

I don't own _Twlight_.

* * *

><p><em>Epilogue<em>

Watching my wife walk across the stage to get her diploma is an interesting experience.

That's right, I said 'my wife.'

Esme and I married six months ago, after dating for a year.

Her parents thought it was much too soon. My parents knew it was exactly right for us.

Edward nearly cried with happiness at the thought of throwing me a bachelor party.

I barely reach my seat after receiving my own diploma when Esme Anne Cullen is handed hers.

Her smile is breathtaking. Maybe even more beautiful than when she smiled at me after saying "I do."

Okay, that smile was better.

When she leaps into my arms after the graduation ceremony, I never want to let go.

"How does it feel to finally be done?" she asks.

"Like I'm dreaming."

"That's what you said when we got married."

"And then it really was a dream. This time it's more of a nightmare. We have to go to full-time jobs now. That cuts down on fun time."

She laughs. "Oh, stop, Carlisle. Everything will be perfect. You'll see."

I hold onto her tighter, not caring about the bodies pressing all around us, trying to get out of the amphitheater.

"I love you, Esme," I say. "I would never want to be here today without you."

…

An hour later Esme and I, along with Edward, our parents, and her parents are sitting in a crowded restaurant downtown. It's noisy and the atmosphere is thick with all kinds of celebrations, but I don't hear any of it.

All that matters is me and my wife, and the diplomas we now have.

There are no speeches, no large shows of congratulations – just two families enjoying an afternoon together.

"I have to be honest," my father says, "when these boys were in high school I used to worry about Edward ever going to college, never mind that he might actually graduate."

We all laugh when Edward throws his straw wrapper across the table at him.

I lean back in my seat and put my arm around Esme's shoulder, happy to watch our families share the joy of our graduation. I was so wrapped up in my wife on our wedding day that I hardly noticed anyone else. Today is the day we celebrate the three of us.

My brother and my wife have become best friends in the time since that first semester we all had class together. Our parents say it's like we all live in our own little bubble together.

Esme even goes so far as to call us the three musketeers.

Edward says three amigos.

I say they're crazy.

…

I unlock the keys to our new townhouse that evening and carry Esme inside. We've been living here a few weeks already and have been married six months, but I still like to carry her in like a newlywed.

She giggles when I set her down, but it doesn't last long before she's quickly undoing the buttons on my shirt.

"Whoa, slow down," I say.

She shakes her head. "No."

"Okay then. I guess I'll have to do this the hard way."

Before she can make another move I lift her in the air and over my shoulder. She squeaks in surprise and then laughs when I rush up the stairs rather awkwardly. It's hard to balance a human being on one's shoulder and navigate a staircase at the same time.

When I set her down on our bed she's already halfway undressed. What surprises me is that so am I. When did my sneaky wife do that?

She grins up at me as I remove the rest of my clothes and crawl over her.

"You're beautiful," I whisper as she lifts her arms and I remove her bra.

She cups my face in her hand for a moment. "I'm so proud of you, baby. You know that, don't you?"

I nod before sliding inside her. There have never been any words to describe this feeling, but this time I'm at even more of a loss than normal. Our wedding night was amazing, but it was the school we just graduated from that brought us together in the first place.

It would always be part of our story, and leaving it behind was a bittersweet moment.

But as my wife moves beneath me, I know that what we are traveling towards – the rest of our life together – is worth it.

It always has been.

* * *

><p>Thank you to Mackenzie L, my wonderful twin, for beta'ing this story. To kr2009 and texasunshine for pre-reading, and being not only good fandom friends but two of my closest real life friends as well. To anhanninen for just everything, bb. Thanks to trepadatiousmusings for writing with me and for listening to me when I start rambling about old Hollywood.<p>

Thank you to all the readers! I love every one of you and am so grateful for every review you've left me. I don't think I've mentioned this before in this story, but I can be found on twitter melissammo. I promise I don't bite.


	31. Outtake

Long story short this afternoon I showed kr2009 something that properly freaked her out and probably made her want to punch me in the face, as happens frequently in our friendship. Well, she likes my face too much to damage it so I said I'd write her something lovely and quite smutty to make up for ruining her day, and this happened. The end. Enjoy.

Unbeta'ed. Probably messy. My apologies.

A long, long time ago in the universe of Nerdlisle and MG somewhere between the end and the epilogue…

* * *

><p>She's lying on the couch when I get home from class. We've been living together for four months now and have been engaged for two weeks.<p>

And I genuinely believe I'll never get used to either of those facts. We'll probably be married before I realize she even said yes.

She's stretched out across the couch, reading a magazine when I walk in. I shake my head and smile because my girl doesn't read Cosmo or Vanity Fair or any other girly magazines. She reads Architectural Digest and ASME journals.

Such an engineer.

She's got a pen in her mouth and her glasses are on top of her head instead of over her eyes, sweet holy mother of God I love it when she wears my Batman hoodie.

Especially because she usually wears it with tiny shorts and it makes it look like she's not wearing any shorts at all and that makes my brain go to some amazing places.

"Are you just going to stare at me all day or do I get a kiss?"

I grin because she doesn't even look up when she speaks, and she's trying to act serious, but there's a smile pulling at the corner of her mouth.

In all honesty, MG sucks at being serious.

Oh, and one day Edward accidentally spilled the beans about calling her MG, so that cat's out of the bag now.

I swear he did it on purpose.

But she loves it and makes me use it sometimes when we're alone.

Thank you, Edward.

I walk over and bend over the couch, placing a soft kiss on her lips.

"Well, that was a bit boring."

I laugh. Leave it to my MG to tell the truth. "It wasn't amazing?"

"No, but lucky for you I'm very forgiving and give second chances. Take two."

This time I surprise her by taking the magazine out of her hand, and pulling her into my arms on the floor. We end up with my back wedged uncomfortably against the coffee table, but I don't care. Not with the things her mouth is doing to mine.

She kisses me slowly, like we've been apart for years and she's having to learn my mouth all over again. I'm the luckiest man on earth because she kisses me like this every day when I get home.

"I have something to show you," she whispers when she pulls back.

I almost groan. "Is it more wedding stuff?"

I swear she's secretly been planning since before I asked. She has too much figured out not to have been planning all along.

Girls are weird.

She shakes her head, grinning like she's up to a hell of a lot of mischief. She probably is.

"Come on," she says, standing and taking my hand to pull me up. She leads me down the short hallway to the bedroom and sits me down on the bed, moving to stand between my legs.

Well, I definitely like where this is going.

She reaches her arms above her head so that the hoodie moves up and her shorts become visible. I look up at her in confusion. They're just the same ratty workout shorts she always wears around the house. And I'm pretty sure I know what I'm supposed to do with them, but I'm still confused. Where's my surprise?

She sighs, her exasperation obviously faked because she's grinning at me like she does when I'm doing something she calls adorable.

She slowly pulls the shorts down, but now my view is gone because she had to drop her arms. I frown until she lifts them again to wrap around my neck and she buries her fingers in my hair.

I'm not sure if it's that feeling or the sight in front of me, but suddenly this is the best day of my life, no exaggeration.

I've been begging her for months – _months_ – to get the pair of Batman panties I found in a catalog one day. I wanted to just buy them for her, but there's still something weird to me about buying her underwear. And every time I would mention them she'd just roll her eyes and tell me my Batman fetish is adorable.

I do not have a fetish.

Or at least I didn't.

Now maybe I do.

Her in those panties, with my hoodie on and nothing else… I can't even see straight. This is going to be like the first night we did this all over again. I can tell. I'm already fumbling for words. Who knows how much more fumbling I'll do.

She lifts my hand and uses hers to trace my finger around the logo. It still constantly amazes me how warm she is to the touch, and the way she reacts to even the lightest skim of my fingers makes every moment of our journey worth it over and over again.

No matter how old we get, what she looks like, how much we both change over the years, she'll always be my perfect mystery girl and I want to memorize the way she looks right now and burn it into the back of my mind for eternity.

I can't wait anymore.

I pull the hoodie over her head and she collapses with a laugh into my arms.

Note to self: one day when it's cold leave the hoodie on her. Just the hoodie. Nothing else.

She's wearing nothing but the panties now and it's going to be a serious tragedy to take them off her, but I can't really follow through on my intentions with them on her.

If I push them to the side they could get damaged. That would be an even worse tragedy.

I flip us over so she's beneath me and kiss along her neck, making my way down over her chest, nipping lightly at the skin over her heart. She moans at that and I feel her heart rate quicken. I place my ear over her heart and close my eyes, listening to it beat.

She runs her fingers through my hair and when I look up she's smiling like I've never seen.

"Yours," she whispers.

I turn my head and place a kiss over her heart. Mine.

Her fingers leave my hair to stretch across the blanket beside her as I move lower, trailing kisses across her stomach, and down over her hip. I nip at her inner thigh and she loves that. I'm a biter. She loves it.

She gasps and balls her fist in the sheet when I, without warning pull the panties down over her hips, unable to wait any longer, and place a kiss right over her clit.

"Carlisle," she groans, "don't… wanna wait."

I smile against her skin. No way am I rushing this. No way at all. She's just going to need to learn some patience.

I pull the panties all the way off, dropping them on the floor before kissing my way back up her leg while my fingers massage her skin roughly. She loves that too. I'll never forget the day I made her demonstrate what she likes for me. I almost died from the shock of how rough she was with herself. It took me forever to work up the nerve, but at moments like this, with the way she's moving beneath me, practically grinding against my face just trying to get even closer, I'm so glad I did.

When she falls apart beneath me it takes all I have not to pull away just so I can watch her. I always stay with her at this moment, helping her through. But watching her… watching her is the most amazing sight I know I'll ever see.

She's grinning as I make my way back up her body. Her head rests on the pillow, completely relaxed. It makes me smile to see her so peaceful. This last year of school is a nightmare and we're both constantly stressed. But our main method of relaxation makes us welcome the stress.

Anything to see her like this.

She pulls my mouth to hers and kisses me like she's drowning. This was a huge shock to me in the beginning too. She loves to taste herself on me.

My kinky MG.

"Carlisle," she pants as I drag my mouth across her cheek to the side of her neck. "Can't wait… inside me… now."

I grin. "Have you been a good girl, Miss Esme? Do you deserve me inside you?"

"Oh, just… now, please."

"There's my good girl, minding her manners."

All joking disappears as she wraps her legs around the back of my thighs, pulling me closer against her. I groan as I push inside her. I don't want to wait anymore either.

Every time we do this, no matter how many times it's been since the first, I always have a brief moment of flashback to that night – the night she opened her heart to me and accepted that I loved her for all of her and not just for this.

I bury my face in her neck as I push in and out of her, my pace quickening with every sound she makes. Esme's never been what I would call loud, but she definitely knows how to let me know she's enjoying what I'm doing. All her breathy little moans thrill me with the knowledge that this is exactly what she wants.

_I_ am exactly what she wants.

"Carlisle…" Her voice is low and so, so sexy. "Harder, please."

I almost laugh into her shoulder as I comply, slamming into her as roughly as I know she loves. She's always so polite. Even now. I can tell she's close. She moves roughly against me, searching for any kind of friction she can get.

When she comes for the second time, I'm able to watch every perfect second. My beautiful mystery girl is never more amazing than in this moment. She bites her lip to keep from screaming, even though I sometimes wish she would just let go.

When she comes back down, she surprises me by roughly pushing me off her. My eyes widen until I realize what she's doing. I roll onto my back, unable to believe how lucky I am. I live every little boy's dream. It's definitely been mine from the day I first saw her on campus.

That thought – and indeed every thought imaginable – flees my mind as her mouth wraps around me. She giggles, looking up at me trying and failing to look innocent as the sound vibrates through me, and I groan loudly, needing to come now.

She licks once from bottom to top, and sucks me back into her mouth, swirling her tongue around the head once and then swallowing around me, and just like that I'm gone.

I smile down at her, gently running my fingers through her hair as she leaves soft kisses along my hipbone.

She moves off the bed to grab my hoodie and her panties and slips both back on before rejoining me on the bed, kissing me fiercely as she climbs into my arms.

"I take it the panties are a hit?" she asks, playing with the tiny hairs on my chest.

"Why didn't you tell me you were getting them? I've been begging forever, Esme. Batman panties! You can't beat that."

She laughs. "You're such a child."

I hum, pulling her back down so her head is on my chest and her hair sweeps over my shoulder, filling my senses with her shampoo and the smell of us.

"But you love me," I tell her.

"Busted. I do. So much, Carlisle."

"I love you too, batgirl."

"I'm batgirl now? I thought I was still mystery girl. I like that name, you know."

"I know. Now you can be mystery batgirl."

She snorts and slaps my chest playfully. "As long as you never mention my new name to anyone else."

I smile as my eyes start to feel heavy with exhaustion. There's no way I would ever share a moment like this with anyone else.

These moments are meant for just the two us, and nothing will ever change that.


	32. Outtake 2

A little less than a month ago my best friend, kr2009, graduated from college. I had every intention of writing this little outtake in time to post it that day. As with most things I try to do on time that idea failed.

Better late than never, right? Right.

I wrote this in under an hour. It's unbeta'ed, and probably really messy, but I didn't want to make Kelley wait any longer.

Here you go, baby. ILY to the moon and back.

* * *

><p>I'm fiddling with my bowtie in the mirror in my parent's entryway, wondering what the hell is taking so long upstairs.<p>

"Are you sure mom's not drowning her up there?" I ask Edward.

He laughs. "Nah, man. You know girls by now. They take forever to get ready."

"Why does it even matter what she wears? No one's gonna see it under the gown anyway."

He shrugs behind me. Today is the day the three of us are finally graduating, and I'm already a nervous wreck. Mom taking MG hostage upstairs isn't helping with that at all. We've been together for years and are married now, but I still don't have all the quirks of being a girl figured out yet.

I look up when Dad comes down the stairs, smiling.

"I think they're almost down. She kicked me out and made me get dressed in the guest room." He looks miffed at being kicked out of his own bedroom, and Edward laughs loudly.

"You dudes and your women. You're so whipped."

Dad and I both roll our eyes. A year ago Edward met a girl, Bella, in one of his classes and they've been together ever since. It's not serious, but I know my brother. It will be eventually.

He fell for her almost as hard and fast as I fell for MG.

_Almost_.

Ha. I said hard and fast.

Anyways, we all sit down on the couch and wait for Mom and MG. My leg won't stop bouncing and I keep staring at the second hand on my watch.

"Dude, relax," Edward says. "You weren't this nervous on your wedding day."

Yes I was. I thought I was gonna pass out. This had nothing on that.

Just as I'm starting to feel queasy I hear the unmistakable sound of a door upstairs, and then the blessed sound of footsteps on the stairs. I swear I can hear angels and trumpets. _Finally_ we can get going. Esme smiles at me apologetically when she sees me. My wife knows me better than anyone, and I'm sure my panic is written all over my face. I don't want to be late for graduation.

That would be really awkward.

She takes my hand and kisses my cheek as my mother takes a picture on her phone behind us. That women can not resist. Ever since my dad taught her how to use that phone it's been constant pictures of her kids.

I blush and try to hide behind MG.

"Oh, stop it," Mom says. "I deserve pictures of all my babies all dressed up in cap and gown."

We let her take a few more pictures before we pile into my dad's SUV and then we're headed to the stadium.

…

The football stadium is stifling while we sit forever waiting for the ceremony to begin. Esme's fanning herself with her hand, and Edward looks like he's ready to die. I'm just ready to get my diploma, call myself an engineer and go home.

To be honest, I'm way more excited about MG getting her diploma than my own.

I've had so many awesome engineer fantasies about her and now they're gonna be real.

I digress.

After the endless speeches and other colleges go through the line, it's finally time for the college of engineering.

Esme smiles at me when it's finally our turn. I'm in line in front of her and I swear I'm gonna trip with how many times I keep turning to see her face behind Edward.

When I hear my name and I walk across the stage it's the second best feeling of my life. Second only to marrying MG. I accept my diploma and shake the university president's hand before practically running off the stage so I can properly see my wife get her diploma.

When I get to the bottom of the stairs on the platform I turn around just in time to hear the announcer call Esme Ann Cullen. I start hyperventilating and think I'm gonna pass out from how proud I am in this moment.

She smiles like the sun when she gets her diploma and I think I was wrong before. This _is_ the best moment of my life. Everything has led me to this. That first day of school when I saw her for the first time set us on this path. This school brought us together. It's why I'm married to the love of my life.

I owe this place everything.

I feel like I'm going to cry as she runs into my arms just off the side of the platform, and I wonder if my mom is close enough to get a picture of this moment. Probably not, but if she does it's going framed in our living room.

The three of us walk back to our seats together and almost forget about all our classmates still getting their diplomas. Now that we don't need to be in order Esme sits next to me instead of on the other side of Edward. Or maybe we do still need to be in order. We really don't care.

She wraps her arm around mine and kisses my cheek again.

"We did it, baby."

Her smile is amazing, and my heart pounds like it's going to burst again.

I still cannot believe this woman is my wife. She's my life, and I'll spend every day giving her everything.

She deserves the world and more. I want to give that to her.

"I love you, MG," I tell her.

"I love you, too."

Once all the graduates have received their diplomas we all stand and throw our caps in the air. Miraculously Esme's lands on the seat in front of me. Written on it in silver glitter fabric pen are two simple words.

_Nerdlisle's girl._


End file.
